


Return to Sender

by kyojinouji



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 1940's AU (briefly haaha oops), Ace Hunk, Ace/Lithro Pidge, Ancestor/Descendant Situations, Classic Great Dancer Lance, Cryofreezing, Depression, F/M, Funeral Scene, Gay Coran too, Gay Keith, M/M, Mentions of WWII, Old Man Keith, Oppression, Other, Pan Allura, Shiro and Allura are a great dance team too tbh, Suicide mention, bi lance, i've been told this is super angsty, kidding but also not really, klance, slowburn, they go hand in hand right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7613965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyojinouji/pseuds/kyojinouji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith was diagnosed with a bone disease that caused him to age rapidly right before his twenty-first birthday. Devasting both him and his lover, Lance, they begin to search for the impossible. A cure. The 1940's don't have much to offer in terms of medical ingenuity but a new project known as 'cryofreezing' may be able to stall the illness just long enough for them to discover a cure. He agrees to leave behind his life and friends for up to five years while the scientists in charge of the Voltron Medical Laboratories search for his saving grace. However, five years come and go and Keith remains in hibernation. By the time 2016 rolls around Keith is now 20 going on 95 and he's stuck in a new century with no way to return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this exists. Kind of took the plot of an old Eremin fic I had planned out like three years ago and warped it into this monstrosity because I just really wanted to get a Klance fic out in cyberspace. Quick warning, I knew nothing about the 1940's other than what my grandmothers have told me so this is a struggle, but good thing it's only for a little while. More notes at the end probably.

_“Where did you come from?  
Crash back into my world, it's been so long  
We're here again in the moonlight  
That night I'll never forget the way you moved  
The way you left the room so sad  
Like nothing ever turned out like you thought it would.”_  
**Fleurie** \- _We Were Young_

_-_

**1941, April.**

 

      “I’m sick.”

     Tendrils of soft air brush their way through Keith’s hair, his gaze locked onto dark waves pushing and pulling against the sand. He could feel the breeze strengthen slightly as Lance’s head whipped towards the sound of his voice. “You’re what?”

  
     Keith fought to keep his focus on the lake, daring himself not to meet the cobalt stare boring holes into the side of his face. “Sick. Lance, I’m sick. They say that I won’t live to see the Elderberry harvest.”

  
     “August. Why did you wait this long to tell me, Keith? That’s barely even five months. You can’t just expect me to be able to adapt that quickly!”

  
     “People die split second all the time, Lance, at least I’m giving you a fair warning!” His words were cold, slicing through the quiet space like a knife through soft butter.

 

     “However, I will have you know that I didn’t wait to tell you. I just found out yesterday night, the Doc made a house visit. He said it’s something rare, a disease of the bones.”  
     “Leukemia?”

  
     “No, no I don’t think so. He told me but I had difficulty listening past the initial news that was delivered.”  
Keith found himself shivering, the April air cool against his goose-pimpled skin. Tucking in on himself he continued, “From what I understand there isn’t a cure. That the oncoming weeks are going to be hellish and painful. That we won’t be able to come out here much anymore.” Two small pond boats sat discarded beside them. One red and white with a set of simple white sails and a ‘K’ embroidered in scarlet thread. The other natural and wooden, navy blue sails and a roaring lion painted into them. As children they came out to the small lake that sat forgotten among the trees and woodland. They cast their sailboats free and followed them as they drifted along the water. Once the war began, they stopped. Their mother’s needed them to help with chores that belonged to their fathers.

-

  
     This pattern worked for a while; they played some days and helped out at home on others. Dinner was never spectacular and there was hardly enough food to go around, but they made it work. Keith and Lance spent hours writing letters nightly to their fathers across the sea. At the end of the week their mothers gathered each and every one of them to send out wrapped tightly in care packages. Until the day a man dressed in official garb arrived on Keith’s porch. His father never responded to his letters after that. Whenever the mail arrived his mother made sure to get to it first, some he saw had his own hand writing on it and looked quite similar to the pieces he had sent out on his own only days prior.

     And then one night his mother made a large dinner. She invited Lance’s entire family over to their house for a small get together, small being a loose term. The McClain’s were a vast group of people. Ages ranged from as young as four to as old as eighty-seven. They all piled into Keith’s ranch style living room and ate a meal of deviled chicken and barbecue cottage cheese salad. Sweet-sour carrots shoveled into the mouths of hungry teens. Cola marsh ice and gold nugget cake ended the spectacular meal, once empty bellies now bloated. It became a night of card games, Spoons and Spades nearly caused a miniature civil war. And everyone was happy, distracted from the discord occurring all around them. Distracted from the marks burrowing their way around Mrs. Kogane’s neck and beneath her blouse. For a short time these distractions proved fruitful.

  
     The next morning Keith kissed his mother goodbye as he took his old pond boat down to his and Lance’s spot by the lake. They set out a blanket in the grass, Lance drawing dutifully in his beat up leather book and Keith knitting a small pair of lavender mittens for the youngest McClain girl. Lance’s hand found its way into Keith’s long hair, complaining that the style was messy and unsophisticated. “For someone so fascinated with fashion,” he had murmured, “you should try to look the part.”

  
     Keith laughed quietly before removing Lance’s hand from his hair and wrapping it with his own. “For someone so fascinated with space, you don’t look much like a star.” His partner hummed softly before soft lips pressed against his own, tasting like pine and mint. Refreshing and absolutely calming. Their lips worked against each other gently, not wishing to push the other into uncomfortable limits. Their secret, the only secret they had to fight to hide. It had started as teenage curiosity but delved further and deeper into love. Homosexuals shouldn’t exist in such a time frame. There was so much at stake, so much their country needed them for. But they chose to risk it, risk everything they had, for each other. Because that was what their love was built on. Risks, passion, and everything about the other. Keith admired the way Lance had planned out his life since they were young. He wished to see what was further on beyond the atmosphere, to witness the celestial bodies first hand. It was a long shot for a dream, no one knew what could possibly be out that far. Airplanes were as close and realistic as Lance would probably get to that dream, but Keith refused to tell him that. Why would he? His boyfriend, his significant other, his lover was a man of passion. To demean his dreams would be the same as destroying Lance himself.

  
     Lance’s voice brought him back to the present, his lips suddenly chilly from the lack of contact. “Where is your mind right now, Keith?” His eyes heavily lidded; his breathing quick and warm against Keith’s cheek.

  
     “I’m sorry, I was just thinking.”

  
     “About?”

  
     Keith couldn’t help but press a quick kiss against Lance’s lips before sitting up from the position they had somehow slipped into. “You. I was thinking about you.” Heat flared across his cheeks as he realized the words had slipped out of his mouth. Quickly he stood and brushed off his slacks, avoiding Lance’s fiery gaze. “I feel a little hungry, what do you say we head back and grab something from my house?” He held out a hand, helping his partner off of the ground. They made quick work of bundling their things together and went on their way back through the trees.

  
     As they reached the end of their street it became evident that something was wrong. A small mass of people stood outside of a house just down the lane and upon approach they were able to identify the owner of the home where the group had gathered. Keith dropped everything he was carrying against the curb and took off running before Lance was able to even gather his wits. Flustered, Lance alternated between calling after Keith and picking up his fallen belongings. A white hearse sat in the driveway, the words ‘Ambulance’ painted across its side. The red cross glared angrily at Keith. It seemed to be asking him ‘Where were you? How dare you leave her here alone.’ Lance’s mother sat outside on the stoop, tear tracks lining her cheeks and her small plump face pale. The only bits of color were in her cheeks and her bright blue eyes, red from crying. Upon seeing Keith, she began to stand.

  
     “Mrs. McClain! What happened here, is my mother alright?” Her figure drooped further into itself before she began to sob once more.

  
    “Keith...your mother...I’m so sorry.”

  
     Later he found out that she had hung herself from the rafters of their basement only minutes after Keith had left for the morning. Lance’s mother had stopped by the Kogane household to return the leftover plates and after discovering the door was unlocked she let herself in. She had meant only to drop off the plates and leave however the basement door had been left ajar. Believing his mother was downstairs she began her descent only to discover the body.

  
     The funeral was larger than most Keith had been to. His mother was stunning, even in death. They had placed her in a high collared dress to hide the rope burn bits that were too dark to cover up with makeup. Her long hair had been braided in certain sections and had small flowers woven through it. Her already pale skin was nearly translucent now despite the foundation it was caked in and her once rosy lips were now coated in a ruby shade of balm. It took everything he had to not rub it off of her face, she would have never chosen such a daring shade. No one in their right mind would have unless they were in the films. All of the women in the neighborhood insisted that they had to be there, after all his mother was one of the warmest people they had ever met. Her death came as a surprise. People came through the line one after another expressing their condolences, they questioned whether he had somewhere to go. No one offered to give him a home. No one except the McClain family. Keith insisted however that at the age of nineteen he would be capable of living on his own. He elected to remain in the house he shared with his mother.

-

  
     “Keith.” Lance’s voice was insistent, he obviously was not too keen on being ignored for so long. “Where is your mind, lover? Talk to me.” His hand brushed against Keith’s cheek, his thumb running circles gently into his temple. Keith sighed into his touch, closing his eyes.

  
     “You. It’s always you.”

-

**July.** July arrives and Keith can no longer walk. Over the past few months he had become so much weaker. His legs one day could no longer hold his weight, the weight they had held up for nearly twenty-one years. His skin had become a sickly purple color and his the whites of his eyes bordered on gold. Their violet-brown color now stood out strongly against their contrasting surroundings. His hair had become dry and brittle, often it broke or fell out in clumps while Lance brushed it. He could no longer relieve his bodily functions on his own and a catheter ran down his leg. But Lance didn’t mind. Because Lance, always Lance, was there. He only ever left his side to get him reading material, his knitting tools, or food. But he was there. And one day he wasn’t.

     One day he awoke and instead his doctor perched next to him. His gray hair thinning and his brown eyes warm and careful. Dr. Holt was the kind of person you glanced at once and immediately trusted. Katie and Matt Holt were both friends of Keith’s. They had all grown up in the same neighborhood and Katie constantly invented new things. She once made a slingshot that fired a small pebble with enough velocity that it shattered Old Man Zarkon’s picture window. Katie who preferred the name Pidge because, “One day,” she said, “I’ll fly just like Amelia Earhart. I’ll prove that all girls can do it too. Just like a pigeon.” Dr. Holt encouraged his children to follow what they believed in, supporting them wholeheartedly. In the same way that Lance’s parents encourage his outrageous dreams. In the way that his own parents urged him on to become a designer; the next Elsa Schiaparelli or Madeleine Vionnet.

  
     “Keith, we may have found a solution to defeat the Galra cells in your body. Or at least a temporary one.” His breath hitched in his throat and he felt himself begin to shake. He wasn’t cold, no not this time, it was excitement. They had tried things, injections, pills, even diets, and although nothing had worked yet he stayed optimistic. “It’s only temporary, as I said. It is what we call cryofreezing. We would submerge your body into a hibernative state for a few years; maybe three or five at most. It will completely stop the aging process and with the way your body is aging rapidly that is our main concern. It’s really a stall; a way for us to discover a true cure to completely remove all the combative cells in your body. But it’s all new, only ever tested before on a couple of animals and only on a single human. All turned out fine of course but there is always room for error to occur. _This choice is completely up to you_.”

  
    His breathing was irregular and he reached to his side, searching for a hand to hold before remembering that Lance was no longer next to him. Panicked, he glanced around the room, scouring for blue eyes and tan skin. “ _Where_?” His voice was gravelly, scratchy against his throat. It felt foreign.

  
    “He’s alright. Asleep on the sofa, I believe. I told him to rest.” A pang when straight through his heart, Lance was exhausted and it was his fault. “Ah-ah, don’t get that guilty look on your face, son. This is his choice. And speaking of choices, take your time making this one.” Standing up, Dr. Holt gathered his black leather bag and began fiddling with its latch. “We all believe in you, Keithy-boy. You can power through this.” His loafers carried him out the door and down the hall where Keith could hear the scuff of someone’s wool socks tutting his way along the hardwood.

 

     Tall and tan Lance rounded the corner yawning, a hand under his shirt scratching his visible stomach. “What did Dr. Bird want?” His mouth quirked up at one corner as he took the recently vacated seat.

  
     “Don’t call him that. Pidge is the only bird in their family.” Keith claimed before falling into a recap of the previous conversation.

  
     “You aren’t going to pass this opportunity, are you? You can’t. Keith, this is what we’ve been looking for.”

  
     “I didn’t say I was going to. Five years is a long time.”

  
     “He didn’t say it would certainly take five years, he only said up to it. Maybe my dad will be back by then.” Lance’s grin was infectious, carried away with the giddy atmosphere Keith added, “Maybe by then we’ll be able to get married.” A shared look and both are giggling until they gasp for air.

 

     The procedure is short and sweet. Keith is wheeled into a room where a large egg-shaped machine rests in the center. They refer to it as a ‘cryopod’ which does very little to comfort him. A deep teal gel sloshes around inside of the pod, they explain that it is similar to water but breathable. The atmosphere is tense and his family stands off to the side. Lance breaks away from the other McClains, quickly taking the job of wheeling Keith into the dressing room. He helps him put on the outfit that has been laid out for him. A cropped red, yellow, and white jacket, black slacks, and a simple black top. All pieces had been made of a material that is said to repel water. Lance decidedly tests it out by licking it only to receive a lightheartedly smack to his elbow. “Don’t be gross, I don’t want your germs on my body for the next five years.”

  
     Lance laughs and presses their foreheads together. “It’ll be worse when we’re married, I promise.” Their lips touch briefly before Lance pulls back. “I want to try something, they’re called butterfly kisses.”

  
     “Lance, you know how I feel about these kind of things. I told you, we’re waiting until we’re at least twenty-one.”

  
     “No, you fuddy-duddy. They’re not like that; hold still.” Before he could protest Lance was leaning down just enough to be eye-level with his cheek. Soon he was close enough that his eyelashes brushed against Keith’s skin, light and fast. Just like the wings of a butterfly resting on flower petals. He pulled back smiling.

  
     Their final kiss tasted like pine, mint, cinnamon, and salt. And when they made their way back into the main room no one commented on their bruised lips or their tear-stained cheeks. No one commented when they helped Keith into the pod about how his shirt was on backwards. No one commented when they closed the glass lid and Lance was against it suddenly pressing himself to one side as he watched Keith close his eyes, a single tear left on his face frozen in time. No one commented when he laid on the ground next to the machine and sobbed until his voice grew hoarse or how he got up wordlessly and drifted out of the room.

 

     He didn’t know what to expect when he woke up from his hibernation. It had been on his mind for the month leading up to the procedure. Would he be alone? Would his family be there? Would he wake up? He never expected to see blue eyes and tan skin staring back at him.


	2. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a few hours late! If you guys notice any mistakes, let me know. Enjoy!

**_“_ ** _ I feel the pages turning _

_ I see the candle burning down _

_ Before my eyes, before my wild eyes _

_ I feel you holding me, tighter I cannot see _

_ When will we finally _

_ Breathe. _ **_”_ **

 

_**Fleurie** _\- Breathe__

 

  
  


     It felt like drifting off to sleep. There was no pain, fear, or uncertainty. The moment he entered the pod everything on the outside simply ceased to exist. Even inside he felt empty, free of all the anxiety that had built up over the last few weeks, months, years even. He thought of blue. Blue like the sky, the ripples in the lake, the peeling paint on the side of Lance’s pond boat. Blue like the neckline of Lance’s favorite top, the pale house at the far end of the street, the scarf to go with the youngest’s lavender mittens. Blue like Lance, blue was Lance. His eyes, his voice, his aura. Lance was everything pure and calming. And Keith floated aimlessly in the deep teal gel of his cryopod thinking only of the blue he ached to see once more. 

     Memories came and went on occasion. Some meaningless, memories that really didn’t serve to be remembered at such a crucial time. Some cycled back to him more than once and each time left him feeling something to be desired. In place of closure, Keith felt a numbing presence. As though he should no longer look for answers; he must only stay afloat. Forgetfulness came easily now; thoughts were difficult to maintain. Frequently the image of water came to mind. It was a large body of deep blue liquid surrounded by bare trees. Their crisp leaves had fallen onto the shore below. The few that hung on gracefully twirled to follow their comrades and Keith couldn’t help but wonder where he would be when the last leaf fell. What would it signify? The end of a cycle of life, another day he wasn’t a part of? But he was not afraid. Instead, he was comforted by the slow progress the world made around him. 

     Some days there was a voice near the water. It carefully wrapped him inside of it and rocked him deeper into sleep. Sometimes the voice brought others along with it, sometimes familiar laughter filled his mind. Over time the voice became less and less present, the others began to fade as well. Blue. The voice was blue. His voice was as blue as Keith’s thoughts were red. A small lanky boy with tan skin, hair the color of chestnuts, and cobalt eyes. Deep as the lake and so full of wonder. They traveled around the lake, building forts against trees and waging war against each other. Together they formed violet, the color of royalty, the berries that now grew from bushes all around them. Once Blue told him that it was now August they were beginning to harvest ‘elderberries’.  He didn’t hear from Blue much anymore but he was always there. Sometimes sitting along the bay, other times climbing the budding trees around them, quiet and hardly ever acknowledging Red.  Until one day Blue himself was gone but his voice came through loud and clear. 

     “Keith, I want you to meet Nyma. Her family is from Hawaii. Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese a few years ago. I don’t know if you remember Shiro? When it happened his family went back to Japan. They were afraid, everything here was hectic. Nyma’s family came up here to get away from everything and we met while I was studying at the University. Keith, she and I are getting married. She needs me so she can stay in this country.” Blue’s voice was becoming softer, breaking and crumbling around the edges. Blue’s once comforting tone unnerved Red. It was a sad and broken song that no longer could carry its meaning the way it had before. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I said I would wait, but I can’t anymore. It’s been so long. I’m so scared and so lonely and I can finally help someone. I love you, I love you so much more than you will ever understand, Keithy-boy. I love you and your silly hair. I love the calluses on your fingers. I love the way you insist on cutting up apples into bite size pieces. I love you and the way you never let anyone treat you as less than them. I love you, I love you, I love you so damn much. But it’s time for me to move on. You would kill me if you knew I ignored someone in need. I have a white-knight complex and you helped to fuel it.” Panic arose in Red’s mind as he registered the heart-wrenching sobs Blue was producing. He tried to lift a hand to embrace him but only felt static. He could do nothing to call out in protest when he heard the quiet shuffling of shoes against the linoleum floor. 

     “I miss you, lover.” 

     Light whispers made their way across the room and suddenly Red was alone. Completely secluded from everything and everyone. The lake grew impatient, waves lapped angerly at the bay threatening to spill their problems upon anyone who entered their territory. The trees that had become so lush were once again bare, the bushes no longer bore purple fruit, the dark sky began to pour its tears onto Red as he lay on a tattered picnic blanket left forgotten alongside two small pond boats. Above him thundered screamed and lightning ripped its way through the great beyond Blue dreamed of uncovering. As he closed his eyes, Red could almost speak the same language as the roaring thunder. ‘ _ Five years is a long time _ ,” it bellowed, “ _ maybe in another life we’ll be married, lover.’ _

     It felt like drifting off to sleep. There was so much pain and betrayal. It was hard to breathe through the fog that had begun to settle once again over his mind. It spilled over the edges and filled his eyes and ears, his nose clogged with the density it brought along. Red replaced blue and there was no time to form purple.

 

-

 

     He never expected to see blue eyes and tan skin staring back at him. He never expected it, but they were there. Bright wide and oh so blue. The contrast between caramel skin and vivid oceanic eyes was stunning, enough so to take his breath away. The scheme was oh so familiar but Red couldn’t place why. It was hard to maintain focus and promptly his gaze was pulled away to a fixed space across the white room. His brain was muddled, filled with the lingering fog. Words existed but he couldn’t push his vocal chords hard enough to break the silence. Strong arms laced themselves around his body and he felt himself be tugged lightly from the inside of the pod. Everything about him was stiff and numb, tingling in a way that made it impossible to focus on anything. Cool plastic spread the chill along his spine penetrating its way through the thick jacket. His thoughts swam through the fog, searching for a way to make themselves known. He couldn’t move, none of his limbs could hear the way he screamed encouraging them to do so much as budge slightly. 

     The ceiling was tall and dome-like, dark interlocking hexagonal shapes filled every open space giving the fixture a feeling similar to that of a beehive. Machines whirred in every corner and briefly Red felt the anxious and unsure of where exactly he was being taken. Large outcroppings scattered around the room opened and closed without an assistive push or pull of a handle. Everything looked official and sterile, not at all like the laboratory he had been brought to only a few years ago. The air fled from his chest in one sweep and he was left gasping, suddenly so afraid. He sought answers but the realization struck that maybe he truly did not want to gain them. Blue’s eyes were here; the same as he remembered them appearing as though they had not aged a day. But were they really the same? His skin seemed so much darker. How much time had passed? A strangled noise began to fill the room. He jumped in alarm and his body fell into violent shakes. Moments before he was unable to move, he now thrashed around on the gurney rocking it from side to side. Blue sighed heavily into a crackling black box. Blue’s voice was higher than before and no longer worked as a security blanket for Red. Instead, Blue’s voice caused him to thrash harder. His thoughts were broken, stitched together roughly and only being held be single threads.

_      That’s not him. That’s not him. He’s not mine. That’s not mine. That’s not him.  _

      A mantra repeated over and over, each phrase counting itself in on the downbeat of his mental clock. His heart rate and breathing both had grown erratic as panic set it. Once again Blue’s voice pounded against his skull begging for release. His own voice trembled and squirmed inside of his vocal chords pleading to utter just one single word. However the word he ached to whisper was no longer there, the fog had blanketed over it. It was as though he could visualize it but as he moved towards speaking it delved further into the fog, replaced by static.  _ Why was it so painful?  _

     A force latched onto his arm, holding him still long enough to penetrate the subtle skin along his bicep. No, that wasn’t correct. His skin was no longer flexible and the force prodded around the same spot until the needle pierced a vein.  _ Why was he built like this? What had happened to him?  _

     “Subject has been given the anesthesia, awaiting next order.” There was that voice again. The fraud. Red worked his neck centimeter at a time until he caught a glimpse of the imposter who was now pushing him through the halls. Blue eyes, beautifully deep toffee skin, and chestnut hair. No, no that wasn’t it at all. Her skin was a similar color to Blue’s but that was where the resemblances stopped. Aqua eyes speckled with violet stared into his own, nowhere near the cobalt ones he so longed to see. Her white-silver hair was pulled into a loose bun, the hallway’s blue and orange lights bounced off of it casting it a different hue with every step they took. Teal markings stood out against the skin directly beneath her eyes. She had no exact color, instead, she was a mixture of many. An opalesque being living in a world of solids. Her delicate lips turned into a small smile and Red’s mind slowly began to fade once more.

 

-

 

     He awoke in a dead sweat, every part of his body felt clammy. On one arm he was attached to a stand with two fluid bags hanging off of it. The other was a flurry of colors, each connecting to a separate wire and made their way down a labyrinth tangled enough to rival Daedalus’s. Carefully he managed to push himself into a sitting position one hand quickly flying over to the needle in his right arm. Before he could strengthen his grip enough to give it a tug, a hand flung out from behind the curtain next to him. 

     “I would suggest against that.” Beside him sat the girl made of opal. Her aqua eyes were wide, brows furrowed directly above them. “We have had quite a difficult time trying to get you to behave, Keith. Without that IV drip, you would be dead or at least someone else would be. You are not the most submissive patient we’ve had in our care.” Warmth spread across her face and Red was instantly reminded of his mother. “Do you remember anything? Perhaps how you got here, who you are, the year you were placed into incubation?” 

      “I...I don’t know.” A mere whisper; speech was difficult, more so than she made it seem.

      Disappointment flickered in her gaze briefly and suddenly she stood. Red imagined her feet wearing invisible grooves in the floor as she paced. “Of course, you don’t. It’s been 70 years, I can’t see how you would ever have been able to remain in a cryostate for that long without some damage to your ability to retain memories. But it’s nothing we can’t fix.” Three quick claps of her hands and she sat next to him once more, her gown floofing around her in waves. 

     “It’s nice to meet you, Keith Kogane. My name is Allura and I will be your personal health companion until further notice. We have a lot to cover and very little time. To begin, you were born in the year 1921. 95 years have passed since then, Keith, however, because of certain circumstances you were placed into a sustained version of a coma. This gave us enough time to correct the cells in your body that were part of a very dangerous disease. A lot has changed since you were last here, many of your friends and relatives are no longer living, to put it bluntly. In order for us to allow you back into the ‘real world’, we are going to need to prepare you. But that can wait, for now, your body needs to be rehabilitated. You will find it near impossible to walk so please don’t try. I don’t enjoy scooping people off of the floor, it is quite awkward for both of us.” Not yet blue in the face Allura added, “But there’s time, Keith. We do not need to rush. There is always time.”

    Keith. His name was Keith Kogane. He remembered suffering through the beginning stages of the Galra, he remembered losing control of every bodily function, he remembered when his legs no longer were able to carry him. He remembered why his skin stuck to him like water, he remembered the lake, he remembered their boats. And he remembered him.  _ How much had truly changed in 70 years? What did he look like now? How was he? _

    “Allura, what happened to them?”

    “Who?”

    “My friends, my family, everyone.”

    “I'm not actually sure. But I will find out for you, in time. Too much information at once could overwhelm you.”

    “Allura, please.” He knew he was holding his breath, he knew that he was asking too much, he knew he was afraid and his mind was still fragile but he had to find out.

     Allura’s gaze was dangerous, calculating. One fragile misstep and he might lose his opportunity to find anything out. He couldn’t have them believe he was too weak to rejoin the world, to find him. She sighed heavily before pushing herself back up. “I understand, but Keith this cannot set you back. No matter what you read in the files I’m about to bring you, you cannot give up, do you hear me? We’ve put so much effort into getting you back to adequate health.” And with that she sped from the room, the train of her dress fluttering behind her.

 

-

 

     Late in the night she returned to the room hauling a large plastic bin. “You would not  _ believe  _ the amount of haggling I had to go through to retrieve these! The record keeper acted as though he didn’t even recognize me!” The bed heaved in protest as the box settled into place next to him. It was full of manilla folders, small boxes, and two pond boats. One red with white sails and an embroidered ‘K’. The other natural with navy blue sails and a roaring lion painted into them. And pulling them from the box reminded Keith of the day he first awoke and a single tear frozen in time melted down his cheek. His hands shook as he lightly picked one up, examined it, and set it beside him on the table. The old white sails were tattered and dirty, the ‘K’ was unraveling, the red paint peeling. Tucked into the bottom of the boat was a small square of paper. 

_      Thenk you, grampa K. Grampa L sed you wod like it if we pleyed with thees. It was sooper fun!!! luv, L.E.M. _

_      Grandpa Lance.  _ Blue’s voice wasn’t just his imagination, Lance really did move on to get married. Not just married, no, he had children. Grand-children. _ I miss you, lover.  _ The words hit him like a bag of cement. It felt as though everything had fallen out from beneath him.  _ Did his wife know about Keith? Did she know about their relationship? Did he ever tell anyone? Or was Keith just a mistake that he refused to think about?  _ Allura tried to save the box before it fell to the ground but it was too late. Its contents scattered across the linoleum floor, photos and memories that he didn’t get to witness sprawled before him. The small boat with navy sails now crushed under the weight of the remnants of the bin. A small note lay folded nearby, knocked from its crevice by the impact. Keith worked to pick it up while Allura made her way around the room gathering files.

_      Keithy-boy, sorry I couldn’t stay behind. When you wake up and look for me in the stars. _

 

-

  
  
     During his weeks of rehabilitation, Keith poured over each and every file and picture he had been given. Pictures of family reunions he had missed, Christmases, Pidge’s first plane, Halloween parties, even one from Mrs. McClain of Lance and his father’s tearful reunion. The birth of his first child. And his second. And third. And his grandchildren. He read letters and notes that were written by each and every person in his life. Recaps of popular shows and music over the years. A plastic brick Pidge had labeled ‘First Cellphone’. By the end he learned that Pidge died from Malaria after spontaneously visiting a country she had not prepared for. He learned that Mr.McClain died from brain cancer. He learned that Nyma fell ill halfway through her fourth pregnancy. But he refused to touch the file Lance himself had put together because every file ended with an obituary.

 

-

The file sat on the bedside table before Allura peeked at the end of it without his knowledge. And for once, _there was no obituary._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this update. I promise I'm getting into the main plot soon! And before you guys say 'why is this not tagged Major Character Death???' it's because there hasn't been and won't be a major character death. The major characters are on their way, this is really just transitional stuff.  
> Find me at:  
> Tumblr: KyojinOuji.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: Twitter.com/KyojinOuji  
> Instagram: Instagram.com/Kyojouji
> 
>  
> 
> The next update will be Sunday (July 31st) at 9:00EST. I'm heading to a Medieval Faire for the day so I won't have time to type anything up tonight!


	3. To Build A Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late *again*. I just doubled the word count in the fic though, so please bear with me!  
> Here's the first juicy chapter, NOW we can get into things.

_ “Out in the garden where we planted the seeds _

_ There is a tree as old as me _

_ Branches were sewn by the color of green _

_ Ground had arose and passed it's knees _

_ By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top _

_ I climbed the tree to see the world _

_ When the gusts came around to blow me down _

_ I held on as tightly as you held onto me. _

_ And, I built a home _

_ For you _

_ For me. _

_ Until it disappeared _

_ From me _

_ From you. _

_ And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust.” _

****The Cinematic Orchestra** _ \- To Build a Home _ **

 

  
  
  


_     Through the front door, out the back, peek through the window, out jumps jack. Through the front, door out the back, peek through the window out jumps jack _ . Loops of vivid green yarn intertwined with each other competitively, seeing who could be the cleanest stitch in the ever-growing pattern. _ Out the back, through the-  _ No, that’s backward.  _ Through the door, out the back, peek through the window, out jumps j- _

_     “Ack!” _ Cold hands brushed the back of Keith’s neck causing arrector pili muscles to delve into panic; goosebumps spread quickly across his body. “Allura, I can brush my hair on my own.” She hummed quietly in affirmation from her place behind him. He had regained most of his ability to move freely and, although still weak, his muscles no longer groaned in outright protest whenever he tested their newly recovered ability. 

    “I am aware that you are able to, Keith, but that does not mean you are willing to. If I didn’t take care of your grooming necessities, you would still look like a blood relative to Cousin It.”

     “Who?”

     “My apologies, you missed that decade.” 

     An offended gasp echoed through the otherwise empty room as he whirled to face his constant companion. “Well maybe if  _ some scientists _ , I’m not naming names, decided to speed up their search for a vaccination,  _ I would have been able to be part of it _ .”

     “Are you insinuating that my father’s hospital is not timely?”

     “75 years, Allura. The art of microwaveable food didn’t even exist where I come from. I missed it by a mere four years.”

      Her laugh sounded similar to water running over glass pebbles, light and twinkling like the stars so far above them. “You didn’t miss much, have you ever had burnt popcorn? It’s atrocious stuff. Once Coran popped some into the microwave at our house and misread the instructions as twenty minutes rather than two. It took weeks before my father could clear the scent out.” She rambled on about her father’s husband's disgusting cooking and the ghoulish green goop he produces and passes off as crème brûlée. While the idea amused Keith, he couldn’t help but let his mind drift back to the stars.

     “ _ Allura, has anyone been up there _ ?”

     “The fifth floor? Why yes, you’ve been up there before numerous times, Keith. Remember a few weeks ago when we had you practice your agility with the robot-”

     “No, I mean the sky. Has anyone been into space?”

     After a few seconds of processing the question, she stated, “Well yes, of course. We’ve been on the moon. We have rovers out on different planets. There is even a plan to potentially turn Mars into a place habitable to humans. Actually, I believe if you would read into a few of those files you may recall that both your friends Matt and Lance were able to join the National Aeronautics and Space Administration.”

     His eyes went wide and he felt a grin spreading across his lips. “NASA, yes of course. I remember reading that in Matt’s file, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. I see, thank

you.” That bastard did it. He did what he had always set out to do, what Keith always believed was impossible. He had achieved his dream, why hadn’t Keith? Why had he been given the hand filled with so much potential and wasted it inside of a healing pod while the most important man in his life continued on with his life? He had children, for God’s sake, a beautiful wife, a wonderful group of friends. And Keith was left feeling bitter, alone. But for some reason, he didn’t hold it against Lance. No, Lance waited it out for years. He saved someone from being thrown from the country. He built a loving, warm family similar to what they had been raised in. His lover, his brother, his soulmate, his family. He could never hate him, instead, he aspired to be like him.

     His hands quickly worked over his yarn creation, running along the length of the raised stitches. Each one’s style catered to a specific memory, although hardly variant between the one next to it if you compared the two far ends of the spectrum you could truly see the differences. They began delicately and worked into something more aggressive and apparent. He had designed it in honor of Pidge, marking the calm, mousy demeanor wore as a second skin and the snarky, passionate personality she held within. Pidge, who truly flew like a pigeon. They had decided that for his first trip out into the city, he would be visiting her grave. Or rather than grave a better phrase would be memorial. Their small town’s first pilot. 

 

-

 

     Buildings passed by quickly. Arus had grown from the bottom up and was now filled with hotels, malls, and six schools. In the 1940’s there were only two schools within the city boundaries and a high school located between their town and the neighboring town of Balmera. It was astonishing to see how far it had come in almost 80 years. Pride swelling in his heart, Keith couldn’t help but press his face to the chilly window of the automobile. The glass fogged up quickly but it was nothing that his sleeve couldn’t fix. There were so many cars on the roads it was no surprise that traffic moved at the speed of an uphill climb. Music flickered through the small stereo system of Allura’s cube car and he tempered with the dial. A pale pink ‘Kia Soul’ affectionately nicknamed the Castle, but to him, it seemed more like a metal death trap. 

_      “Oh, oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride-” crzztkt. _

_ “Send my love to your new lover, treat her better-” crzzkttkzt. _

_ “And I will not negotiate, I'll fight it-” czzrrrzzktkt. _

_ “On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair _

_ Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air _

_ Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light _

_ My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim _

_ I had to stop for the night.” _

 

     His hand froze on the dial. “Oh, I like this one, Allura, what is it called?”

     “ _ Hotel California _ by the Eagles, I believe. I had a feeling you would be more of an alternative fan, but I suppose soft rock is similar.”

     “I see, everything else just seems so busy. I don’t know how to feel about it.”

      “I understand completely. My partner is a huge fan of old rock, you two would get along quite well. I’ll have to introduce you.”

      As they moved further from the heart of the city the roads slowly digressed into rubble and dirt. Streets that reminded Keith of home. These forgotten areas were a blast to the past, ones he traveled through frequently when his friends on summer nights out to the fields where they would catch jars of fireflies to light up their small cotton tents. They spent the nights gazing into the galaxy surrounding them and would create their own constellations when it was too difficult to identify official ones. In the morning they would dump out the dead bugs and watch the few survivors gather their bearings to fly. The ones who survived were similar to him in their own way. Left alone to live yet another day, while everyone around him seemed to crumble. It seemed like a million years ago. 

     Allura drove the car up to the edge of the road before reaching across the console and squeezing his hand in a reassuring manner. “Are you ready?” Nodding his head, he unclipped the constricting seatbelt, although, it did little to alleviate the pressure he felt weighing down on his chest. The Castle’s door creaked open as his body weight pressed hard against it; the outside air immediately muggy and tense against his skin. She led him to the woodline and down a winding path coated with a blanket of deep green moss. The trail had been lined with blooming wildflowers; lilies of the valley, puttyroot orchids, liverwort, forget me nots, poppies. Whether it was on purpose or purely chance did not matter. It was something Pidge would have adored. Rustling in the leaves next to him caused Keith to back himself up to the far side of the path before a small rabbit floundered out of the bushes and directly into his line of sight. Allura’s shaking form up ahead reassured him that she had indeed seen his moment of panic as well as the fact that she found it hilarious. Keith, wanting to prove that he was truly not afraid of bunny rabbits started towards to lagomorph only to be rudely cut off by the flash of an orange shape. 

     The fox had quickly emerged from a nearby cinnamon fern patch only to seize the rabbit from directly in front of him. In the blink of an eye, it disappeared into the brush across the pathway leaving Allura and Keith alone. Keith turned wide-eyed to face his companion only to see her making a similar expression, her mouth shaped into a small pink ‘o’. 

     “Well, I do believe that is enough excitement for today. However, it is a good lesson regarding how the cycle of life plays into things.”

     “Allura, please. I just witnessed violence first-hand. A little delicacy would be nice.” Suddenly both were doubled over, hands on their knees and gasping for breath. The irony of the situation set in quickly, they were going to visit Keith’s nature loving, dead friend and here in her domain the death of one of her creatures occurred. Absolutely morbid. Wiping away tears, they began back down the path. Allura chattered brightly while Keith lost himself in his own thoughts. Allura’s aura was iridescent, casting opaline streaks directly out from its otherwise white and pink glow. She was rare, pure, and most certainly born to be a talented healer. Being in her presence was truly a blessing and he completely understood why she was placed in charge of someone with a history like his. She was the kind of person who spread love and positivity wherever she went and was nurturing in a way similar to a mother. Her inner beauty reflected clearly on the outside and she was unaware of it.

     She had moved slightly ahead on the path and was now standing between him and an archway of leaves. It was obvious that they had reached their destination but rather than feeling anxious Keith had adapted to the calming atmosphere of the woodland. His hands still ran their way up and down the length of the freshly knitted green scarf; more habitually than out of stress. It felt as though the worst was already behind him and although he was about to visit the grave of his long dead friend, he felt as though she had already been alerted of his arrival. Since the moment they stepped onto the trail, he had been enveloped in a sense of love and delicate longing.  _ This was Pidge, everything about her. _ Behind the firecracker personality, she was always so caring and tender towards her friends and family.  _ And he missed her _ . A few tears raced each other down his cheeks and he stopped to rub his eyes before pressing on, ignoring the questioning glance he received from Allura. 

     Emerging on the other side of the arch was an unforgettable experience. It was like waking up and seeing the first snow blanket the world outside of your window. The graveyard was breathtaking and felt as though it was part of a separate dimension. Trees grew tall, so tall he could barely make out where they ended; if they ended. Dragonflies flitted about the graves, large moths rested against trees, birds hummed their identities from high above him. It was ethereal. Light filtered through the leaves as Keith worked his way further into the clearing. Each grave was in bloom with varying shades of color and moss. Each step was cushioned by the blanket of plush moss and it felt as though the planet’s gravity switch has just been flicked. 

     In the center of the clearing sat a tall octagonal memorial made of a deep grey and white marbled stone. Ivy and moss had made their home along the smooth surface of the memorial’s base. Resting on top was a large set of wings wrapping their way around a small figure. Her body carved in a way that articulated the wild curls of her hair, the creases in her long tunic, her almond shaped eyes framed by long eyelashes. Obviously she was older, but still, she was so dainty and fragile in appearance. Pidge was beautiful. In front of the memorial sat a plaque. 

_ Katie “Pidge” Holt.  _

_ She who defied gravity with grace and perseverance. She who built her own wings and flew on them with the grace of Icarus. _

_ 1923-2013. _

     Keith tried too late to stifle his laugh and instead turned it into a strange cross between a cough and a car engine. Suddenly, something shuffled in a panic behind the memorial and Keith immediately lunged around the corner. His initial response was to grab at the figure and tackle it to the ground. However, upon registering the person beneath him, his grip quickly loosened and he quickly pushed himself onto his knees. 

     “Get off of me,  _ you freak _ !”

     The girl lay sprawled on her back for a few counts before carefully pressing herself up onto her elbows. Her green and white headphones were pushed haphazardly around her neck, flattening wild tawny waves that oozed disobedience. Her eyes were such a bright amber shade of brown Keith had a difficult time looking away. An oversized green and white hoodie engulfed her delicate frame and Keith made note of the fact that her terrible fashion sense was still just as horrific as he remembered. Not that he looked much better in a faded Radiohead t-shirt and black jeans that Allura had found for him. 

     “Katie?”

     “That’s not my name. And even if it was, how do you know it?”

     “I’m sorry, I mean, you just looked like someone I knew. I’m very sorry, I’m just a fat-head.”

     The girl squinted at him as he began to stand and held out her hand. “Your head is a pretty regular size, dude. But it could be the hair that’s adding a little bit of unnecessary volume. At least help me up, it’s your fault I’m down here in the first place.”

     “In all honesty, you were sitting down when I walked over.” He held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. She chuckled slightly before pulling a device from her pocket. Fingers flying across the screen, she fiddled with it briefly before returning it to her hoodie. 

     “Anyways, do you have a name, Mullet Man?”

     “ _ Excuse me _ ?”

     “Your hair, it looks like a mullet. Have you never seen David Bowie? Paul McCartney? Billy Ray Cyrus?”

     “No? I, uh, am not updated on modern celebrities, I guess.”

     She stared at him open disbelief and Keith could feel himself digging his own grave. “Modern celebrities? Dude, they’re all from like 20 years ago. David Bowie like just died this year. Paul McCartney might be dead but I have no idea, I was never a fan of the Beatles. And well I don’t think Billy Ray is, but I wouldn’t be shocked if he’s actually immortal. He hasn’t died from heart failure because of Miley yet so that’s a plus. Mullets are basically a doom magnet, though, very opposite of a chick magnet. Be careful.”

     “I’m sorry? I’ve had a lot going on.”  _ Or actually nothing for the last 75 years. _ “I’m Keith, though.”

     “Pidge Gunderson. Welcome to my humble abode. That’s a joke, I don’t live here. This fine little lady, though,” She pointed beside them at the memorial; grinning wildly. “She’s my granny. She was basically a legend.”

     Keith felt a smile spreading across his face instantly. That was why they were so similar, everything right down to the constellations of freckles that spread across their noses. “Yeah, she was when we were kids too.” Immediately it felt as though ice water had been dumped down the back of his shirt. His entire body broke into a cold sweat and his hands immediately began twisting the green scarf around his fingers, the tinge of pain distracting him from his slip-up. He was supposed to stay under the radar, not just announce his backstory without a second though. “I mean, as a kid I heard a lot about her.” He stumbled for words. Pidge’s hands quickly grabbed his own, untangling them from the scarf and allowing the circulation to once again flow freely. 

    “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself. And Keith, I recognized you immediately. I’m the grandchild of the biggest robotics nerd on this planet, it would have been stupid if she didn’t try to crack all of the mechanisms in the cryofreeze pod you were stored in. She tried for decades to get them to give her a few hints into how it worked. We also inherited plenty of her childhood photos when she passed and I can promise you that you don’t look a day over 73. Also, it was kind of obvious with your mother hen over there. She’s been trying not to look over here this entire time.” Her grin was infectious and he could see unshed tears brimming against her waterline. “I just wish she was here to see you now.” Pidge pressed into his side briefly before ducking under his arm and pulled herself to the top of the monument. “Everyone says we look like twins.” 

     “Yeah, you do. You really, really do.” Keith rubbed a gloved hand into his eyes, savoring the momentary bliss. He was never so emotional but a reunion like this was difficult. Seeing someone who got to move through their entire life but leave behind someone who was a carbon copy  _ while you were out of commission and couldn’t be there to witness any of it _ .

     Pidge carefully lowered herself from her podium and approached Keith. “Keith, I have a few friends who would love to meet you. You’re a hero, in a weird sort of way. Do you think you’d be able to meet up with us later this week? I know how difficult it is to get out of the hospital wards, but my family works there too. If you’re willing, we can probably convince Allura.” The idea of freedom immediately made his heart rate speed up. Being around other people, however, they were part of this generation.  _ They lived in a different world that what he was raised in and the idea of casually spending time with them seemed both terrifying and exhilarating.  _

     “Well I mean, I’m not sure. I don’t really know much about pop culture, technology, really anything. It’s been 75 years since I’ve spent time with people my age. I can’t imagine that I’d be the most entertaining person.”

     “On the contrary, you would be the best kind of entertainment. No offense. Our history classes at Garrison barely cover anything about the 1930’s and 40’s. And honestly, there're a few people I think you would like to meet.”

     She stared at him with the amount of determination you would see in a Kirby Company vacuum salesman to have as you tried to force him from your living room. “Alright.” While he felt uneasy about becoming a specimen for a group of twenty-first-century kids, he quickly reassured himself that it was illogical. Pidge appeared to be similar if not identical to her grandmother and didn’t seem to mean any harm.

 

-

 

     The walk back to the Castle was peaceful as Allura and Pidge discussed the possibility of Keith attending the event. As far as she could tell, Allura could not find a single issue with the plan. She believed that socializing was necessary in order for Keith to readapt to daily life. Allura explained that she would supervise the first visit alongside her boyfriend who worked with some of the students at the Garrison. 

     “Keith, what’s your cell number? I’ll text you.”

     “My what? I’ve never been to prison, Pidge. I don’t even know my room number at the hospital.”

     “I-excuse me? Keith, your cell phone. One of these.” She pulled the flat device back out of her pocket and held it out to him. “Do you have one?”

     “I think Katie left something my bin that she called a cell phone. It looks much more like a brick than this one, however.”

     “Did she give you a Nokia?” Pidge obviously found this hilarious as she stood before him fighting back a grin.

     “Maybe?”

     “Of course, well, tell you what. I’ll stop by your room one of these days and drop one off, alright? We’ll have an impromptu class on them, Grandpa.” Keith’s face pulled into a grimace at the unlawful nickname but didn’t protest. He needed to catch up on the times after all and Pidge was his best bet to learn anything. The two groups parted ways after Allura questioned whether or not Pidge had a ride back to the Garrison and was given a response similar to a series of offended gasps and the phrase,  _ “You’ve known me for years, Allura, who do you think I am, _ ” before she wheeled a previously obscured bicycle out of a nearby brush pile and rode off in the opposite direction.

 

-

 

     The process of learning how to use a smartphone proved quite difficult. Allura and Pidge had spent nearly an entire day arguing over whether he should own an iPhone or a Galaxy. Eventually, Pidge won in favor of Android and quickly ran to the nearest phone service provider. Apparently in this day and age more than just the AT&T Corporation existed and there were varying degrees of phones on the market. 

     The actual process consisted of Keith having to assign a name to his phone, something Pidge claimed was known as an E-mail address. It would provide his access to a virtual mailbox. On top of that, he was to learn to text. She was able to press buttons at a rapid rate but he was only able to chicken peck at each individual key. ‘ _ Hello’ _ was a chore. By the end of their lesson, he had managed learned how to call Allura, who was just down the hallway, as well as text Pidge something known as ‘ _ The Bee Movie Script _ ’. Pidge found that hilarious and said that she was going to  _ ‘screenshot’  _ it and post it all over Keith’s ‘ _ fan pages _ ’.

      She had also added something to his phone that would allow them to send brief pictures back and forth. She suggested that they take a ‘ _ selfie’  _ but each one came out with him making some ridiculous face or blinking. Eventually, they were able to get a decent picture of the three of them smushed against each other. Their cheeks all touched but it was not an uncomfortable feeling. Instead, he was enjoying the others’ company. Pidge’s aura radiated as brilliant green, that of a natural healer and creative mind. The picture was actually rather cute, disregarding how dorky he looked. Pidge had thrown up a peace sign last minute and Allura was sticking her tongue out in a playful gesture. Keith was between both of them, his hair pulled into a low ponytail with a wide smile spreading across his face mid-laugh.

  
  


-

 

     By the end, he had learned the utmost basics. He had caught on to the alien technology rather quickly and it felt almost as though he was born to use it. He sat against the wall with Pidge tucked into his side, quietly scrolling through her  _ ‘Instagram’  _ feed. Glancing over, something caught his attention.

     “Hey, Pidge. What does that mean?” Sleep tugged lightly at his speech.

     “Hm? That? It’s the pronouns that user specifically uses.”

     “They/Them?”

     “Yeah, like that’s what they’d prefer being referred to instead of he/him or she/her.”

     “I understand, I think. What do you use?”

     “Me? I never really put a label on myself, I guess. I’m a girl, but since I cut my hair people assume I’m male sometimes so it’s easier just to go by whatever. Gender is fluid, ya’ know? No sense in stuffing yourself into a box you don't really feel like you fit in. I cut my hair so I could sneak into the Garrison. They found me out a few months in, so, in the end, it was kind of pointless, but they let me stay. It was mainly Lance’s fault I got found out.”

     “Lance?” Keith felt his heart skip a beat and his pace immediately quicken. His palms and throat felt sticky. “I had a close friend named Lance.”

     “That’s what my grandmother said. Our Lance is pretty similar, I think you’ll like him.” Pidge cracked a grin before lowering her head back down towards her phone. “Hey, do you care if I stay here tonight? It’s too dark out to ride my bike back to the Garrison.” 

_      A sleepover, just like when he was a kid _ . “That sounds alright, but we should probably have Allura call them to explain where you are.”

    “Why don’t you do it?”

     “O-Oh. I could couldn't I?”

     “What are you, scared?”

      “No.  _ Give my cellular device _ .”

      “Phone works well enough, Keith.”

      “Whatever, hand me it.”

     After a few minutes of searching for the number and fiddling with the keypad, he managed to dial the Garrison’s number. It rang only twice before an automated voice message came on. “You have reached the Garrison 24-hour Attendance Hotline. Please state the student’s name, dorm number, and the reason for the absence.”  

     “Uh-” Keith felt his voice rise an octave. “The student’s name is uh, um. Pidge.” She made a ‘keep going gesture’ from beside him.”Gunderson. Room number?” Pidge held up a sequence of three fingers, then two, and then six. “Three hundred twenty-six. The reason for absence is it is unsafe to bike back in the dark.” Quickly he pressed the large end call button on the screen and watched the page change from green to orange before disappearing. 

     “I’m so proud of you, my little boy is growing up.”

     “Oh be quiet, I’m old enough to be your great grandfather. It’s only because you were there to coach me.” 

     “You kind of did sound identical to my brother right around the time he started to hit puberty. I’m pretty sure it was the voice crack.” Keith felt his face flare red instantly. Suddenly Pidge’s mischievous expression turned into something much more devilish. “Wanna prank call some places?”

     “You know it.”

They fell asleep sometime around 3am and Keith dreamt of a dancing green robot mascot calling in sick to places it didn’t work at..

  
  


-

  
  


     The day had finally arrived where Keith would be introduced to Pidge's closest friends, Lance and Hunk. While Keith knew he had no reason to be anxious, he couldn't help the fact that his heart was racing, his breathing was shallow, and his hands visibly shook. It felt as though his mind was going a mile a minute. He had cycled through numerous outfits and couldn't decide if he preferred his hair up or down. As they began to near the set meeting time, Allura complained that they would be late if he didn't get his  _ ‘pretty little boy band butt in gear _ ’. He quickly decided that a red and white flannel, Ramones t-shirt, and black jeans would work fine. As for his hair, a half up-half down look would settle the debate.

     Allura looked stunning as always as they approached the Garrison’s front gates. Her hair had been pulled into a thick side fishtail braid that was woven full of light pink and white dogwood blossoms. Her blue sundress was mid thigh and fluttered about her every time she moved, sending the pink flowers printed all over it into a flurry. She had explained to him on the way there that she hadn’t seen her boyfriend Takashi since a few weeks prior to Keith waking up. He worked for the science branch of the Garrison and assisted with the space programs as well as robotics courses.

     Keith spent a few minutes fiddling with his phone as he shot a message up to Pidge, who had promised to meet them in the common area of the building. 

     “I’m going to go search for Takashi if that’s alright with you? Pidge shouldn't be long. I’ll text you once I find him.” Keith, not wanting to stand between a girl and the man she loves, found himself nodding without truly processing the question.  _ Constant-care companion, my ass _ . He still found that it was incredibly difficult to control his thoughts, but was incredibly thankful that he could even form coherent thoughts. It’s the little things that count.

     Looking up Keith could see Pidge approaching from the stairwell followed by a heavier man who appeared to be of Hawaiian or Polynesian descent. And suddenly Keith saw him. Tall and caramel skinned. His hair was shorter than he remembered it, but it was him. His laugh like a bitter apple, sharp but refreshing. The one-sided smirk. His slightly upturned nose. The casting of freckles across his face. And as he approached, Keith could see them so much clearer. The deep cobalt he had fallen so hard for.

_ His Lance was finally here, he was home. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Updates will be every other day at 9:00pm EST starting now.  
> I strayed from my Fleurie-centric lyric openings through ahaha oops. Her songs were a MAJOR inspiration for this, but so was the song I featured in this one. Each song kind of represents the chapters, if you look. Except in this case, it represents what's coming up as well as Keith's past and what he left behind.
> 
> Also Pidge and Keith interactions are hardly ever talked about and I want that to change because they're precious. (They're also my favourite characters.)
> 
> Find me on:
> 
> Tumblr: KyojinOuji.Tumblr.com  
> Twitter: Twitter.com/KyojinOuji (I post a ton of updates regarding chapters, so if you want to know about those check me out there!)  
> Instagram: Instagram.com/Kyojouji


	4. Cheers, Darlin'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, I finally updated. Ever since I started doing 'every other day' or 'every two days' updates I've been able to make slightly longer chapters. I wanted this one to be a bit longer, actually, but I was worried it would be way way way too much to read at once so I'm splitting it up into two.  
> Also thank you guys for all of the incredible feedback. I'm so happy you are all enjoying this, I'm having a blast writing it.

_ “Cheers darlin' _

_ Here's to you and your lover boy _

_ Cheers darlin' _

_ I got years to wait around for you _

_ Cheers darlin' _

_ I've got your wedding bells in my ear _

_ Cheers darlin' _

_ You give me three cigarettes to smoke my tears away _

_ And I die when you mention his name _

_ And I lied, I should have kissed you _

_ When we were running in the rain _

_ What am I darlin'? _

_ A whisper in your ear? _

_ A piece of your cake? _

_ What am I, darlin? _

_ The boy you can fear? _

_ Or your biggest mistake?” _

**_Damien Rice_ ** _ \- Cheers Darlin’ _

      Soft lips. Tangled limbs. Sweat mingling with the sweet taste of chocolate malt still lingering. Gentle caresses. Foreheads pressed together, eyes full of need. Light panting. Rapid heartbeats. This is what Friday nights were made of. Fresh from the football game they had gone into town to stop by the soda shop and spend time with mates. Pidge had spilled a rootbeer float down the front of her blouse and had to excuse herself early, Matt following close in tow to assure that his sister made it home safely. It had left Keith and Lance alone with no one save the handful of acquaintances that lingered about, discussing the scores from the game. Lance had joined the team once again and to the left and right of him sat majorettes. Their fingertips would brush his arm, their smiles sickly sweet. They had a similar goal in mind and they were most certainly invading his space. Keith sat directly across the table from him, watching his best friend be shamelessly played with by two girls who hardly had any respect for him. 

     It wasn’t that Keith was jealous, not at all. But Lance was part of his territory. It was obvious; they never left each other’s side. But as soon as they had entered the small diner on the corner of Maple Street and Grove Avenue the two girls had pushed themselves between them. They made sure to secure the seats on both sides of Lance, promptly separating Keith from his lifeline. Irritated, he had taken the seat across the table from him, forced to glare in their general direction. Feeling the heavy stare, Lance looked up only to grin and shrug; feigning innocence. That twit. He was so easily swayed by the ladies whose only goal was to become his filly. If he wanted to act like that, Keith could play the part as well. Beside him sat a small girl, light brown hair tied up in a bright bow of white and baby blue. Her name was Sherry if he remembered correctly.

     “Lance is a pip, isn’t he?” Keith’s words were laced with sarcasm, hoping she would catch on. Her eyes grew wide instantly, gaze flickering between him and Lance. “He has flirts just hanging off of him.” Her mouth formed a small ‘o’, slowly opening and closing similar to a fish. She slowly began to realize the situation and a smile spread across her lips. 

     “Oh yes, quite. But I think you are cute as a bug’s ear yourself, Keith.” She placed a hand gently on his arm, drawing small circles as a way to relax his suddenly tense form. “You know, while he’s dizzy with those dames, we could always find our own form of entertainment.” Suddenly, Keith was digging through his brain. This was working well, too well he realized as she slowly moved closer to him. Warning bells went off in his mind as he tried to lean further away from her. Sherry was a looker, true, but he didn’t play for that team. Not even slightly. And if something like this happened in front of everyone that was left in the diner, it would get back to his mother easily. He didn’t want her to believe that he was out before curfew toying with girls. Her grip tightened and she pulled him close enough that he could feel her breath, smell the flowery shampoo she used. His own breathing halted and his pulse skyrocketed. As her lips brushed his he could vaguely taste the cherry milkshake on her breath. But he wanted out.  _ He needed out. Away from this. He needed to get out _ .  _ Out. Out. Out. _ His mind fell into immediate panic, hands scrabbling along the edge of the table. His body moved on its accord, metal chair scraping across the linoleum with a sound reminiscent of someone getting shot full of lead. It tipped on one leg and was sent clambering onto the floor with a  _ slam _ . 

     His feet carried him far across the floor and out the revolving door. Sherry’s voice followed him out into the street, high pitched and screeching obscenities. “You greaseball! This is why you’re nothing more than a half portion, Keith Kogane! You’re nothing more than a fruit! I know it, we all know it!” His face felt hot and he could swear there were tears brimming against his waterline, running down his cheeks. His head was pounding, his stomach turned as though he was going to be sick. But he didn’t turn back, he didn’t slow. His feet drug him forward at a brisk walk, pushing him to the one place he knew he would be safe. Behind him footsteps were quiet, the town was bustling and it was no doubt that someone would be walking the same direction as him. Eventually, they would branch off. They had to. And with Lance occupied, there would be no one at the lake. There he could go and be himself until curfew hit; he could go and let his body be wracked with sobs. It was there that he could think about the love that could never come to light. And it wasn’t until the steps behind him grew heavier and more urgent that he heard it. 

     The out of breath cries, the voice that so desperately he ached to hear. “Keith, please. Keithy-boy. Please, buddy. Just slow down.” But he couldn’t obey, he had to keep moving. His pace picked up and so did Lance’s, suddenly they were both tearing down street after street at a sprint. The woods leading to the lake came into view and he knew once they reached the curb he would be home free. But he was wrong, as soon as his feet hit the plush grass just beyond the curb his body was slammed with sheer force into it. 

     Lance straddled his hips, hands gripping his wrists just above his head. “You did exactly the opposite of what I asked, you know.” His eyes were puffy and red from crying, lips bitten and chewed to be raw. Keith squirmed underneath him, his position made him too vulnerable. He didn’t want his heart to misunderstand the situation, he wanted Lance off of him. And then his world was engulfed in a flurry of pine and mint. Of cinnamon and chocolate malt. Salty sweat and tears mingled with the sweet flavors of love. And warmth. And comfort. And _ home _ .

 

-

 

     And he was home. The bustle of the students around them was hardly noticeable because at that moment he finally felt something. Something deep, sweet and oh so glad. He stood in a hurry, cell phone plummeting down to the tile flooring. Pidge squawked loudly, chasing down the skittering piece of technology, while Keith stood utterly frozen in place. Everything between the two of them was silent, tense, and at a complete standstill. 

     “Lance.” His breath left his body swiftly as he closed the space between them. Cobalt eyes stared back, wide and beautiful. As beautiful as the lake on a sunny day, light refracting off of the rippling waves caused from skipping stones. Skipping stones that now danced in the same pitter pat as Keith’s heart. “Lance.” He pulled the taller boy against him by the shoulders, eyes closed breathing in the scent that surrounded him. The scent of pine and- no. That wasn’t it. No, this Lance smelled of something saltier. Ocean spray and lemongrass. And it wasn’t his Lance. Not anymore.

     “Pidge, you didn’t mention he was so...touchy.” His voice was harsh, nothing near the gentle hum he usually spoke in. The thought sounded through his head once more.  _ Not yours. He’s not yours anymore, Keith.  _ “Seriously, Pidge, buddy. Help me.” 

     Keith stepped back slightly, holding Lance at arms distance. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you.” He felt his voice break mid-sentence but pretended that it didn't happen. Nothing mattered now that he was back.

     “Keith,” Pidge stepped forward slightly, wiggling her way between the two of them. “I have some bad news. Well it’s not really bad news, not quite good either. I guess I just have some news. I mean, it still is going to be pretty disappointing to hear-”

     “Pidge.” The larger boy’s voice served as a warning bell, almost as to say ‘Pidge, you’re getting away from the point’. 

     “Right, yeah sorry, Hunk, thank you.” Her hands fidgeted carefully as she spoke, “Keith, these are the friends I told you about. The big guy is Hunk, our legendary chef. Lance’s cousin.” That was bizarre, Keith knew all of Lance’s cousins. Not one looked at all similar to Hunk. A cold feeling began to seep through his bones as realization set in.  _ I’m so sorry, Keith. I said I would wait.  _ “And this is Lance,”  _ but I can’t anymore.  _ “His full name is Lance Elon McClain,”  _ It’s been so long. I’m so scared and so lonely and I can finally help someone.  _ “The grandson of the Lance McClain you grew up with.”  _ I love you. _

_      Not yours, Red.  _ The air felt like it had been knocked from his chest, so much pain and pressure pushed against him. It felt like being underwater and hearing voices around you but not being able to distinguish them. Blood began to rush in his ears and his vision grew fuzzy.

     “Shit, is he okay?”

     “Shock, I think he’s going into shock. Quick Hunk, go get Shiro and Allura! Lance, help me settle him onto the couch!” 

     Keith felt himself sit down on the plush cushions of the velveteen loveseat but everything happened in sequences afterward. One second cobalt eyes stared deep into his own, the next an opalesque figure was settling him against the pillows, another showed him a familiar chiseled jawline. And then nothing at all. 

 

-

 

     When he came to the group had completely surrounded the small couch; with the addition of Allura and a broad shouldered man. He loomed over Keith with the concern of parent, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. “Does this happen often? Allura? Has he been treated for this?” His voice was deep and filled with dewy syrup, recognizable but also so distant in his memory. 

     “Shiro, hush. He looks like he’s coming to.” She positioned herself between the two of them and placed a cool hand to his forehead. Vanilla and something floral flooded his senses, lavender or lilac maybe? “Keith, can you hear me?” He groaned in response, using his limbs to push up against the plush surface took almost too much concentration. With a sudden realization that he was not only laying on the loveseat but he also had his head settled into Lance’s lap, he abruptly shot up and smacked his forehead against his pillow’s sharp chin. Lance yelped, whether from pain or surprise Keith wasn’t sure, and pushed him away.

     “What happened?” His voice was groggy with sleep, the world still appearing grey and fuzzy around the edges. Allura appeared directly in front of him, the finger held in his direction already waggling. 

     “You went into shock. How many times have I told you to take it easy? A few weeks ago you were still frozen in a pod. If you didn’t think you were up to this, why did we come here? Everyone could have easily come to the hospital. You aren’t a caged bird you know, you are allowed to have visitors. Coran takes great care of the back garden, we could have had a nice picnic instead. I can’t believe on our second excursion you pull something like this, we’ll leave if you-” The taller man gently tapped on her shoulder, a sheepish grin spreading across his features. 

     “Allura, I think I’m more qualified to explain this. I’ve been through it before, after all.” He kneeled down until he was settled on the balls of his feet and held out a tentative hand. “Keith, it’s nice to see you again. It’s been 75 years, buddy, and I’m glad you could finally join us. I’m not sure if you remember me, but my name is-”

     “Shiro. Shirogane Takashi.” His breath left quickly, face warm with recognition. Shiro’s face immediately transformed from hesitant into something as brilliant as the sun. Suddenly, they were embracing, both wracked with silent sobs filling in for words left unspoken. Minutes passed and there was only one question floating between them.

     “How?”  His throat was raw and there was a large tear-stain imprinted on Shiro’s deep gray blazer. “You look no different from the last day I saw you, Shiro. How are you here? I thought you left, I read that you went back to Japan with your family.”

     “I did, but I fought from the inside for America. I knew it was futile and eventually I was discovered. I was a traitor, Keith.” He rolled a sleeve up gently to reveal a black and violet metal arm. He flexed his fingers slightly and held it out to Keith. Gently, Keith placed his hands against the cool metal, hardly noticing that he was crying until small drops landed against the prosthetic. 

     “Oh fuck, I’m sorry. You won’t rust will you?” His voice was grave but after looking up he saw that Shiro stared back at him with a deadpan expression. “What? You will, oh no. Does anyone have a handkerchief or-” Shiro’s laugh caught his off guard and suddenly he realized that he must have said something bizarre. “What?”

     “No, Keith, I’m sorry. It’s pretty inappropriate for me to laugh. It’s just, oh wow, most people react to the fact I no longer have an arm and ask what happened. They don’t ask me if I’m the tin man.”

     “I didn’t ask you if you were the tin man, you buffoon. I mean, your arm is metal! How else should I respond!” Suddenly they both fell into laughter, the rest of the group staring on in bewildered awe. “How did you get here, Shiro? How are you still the same you?”

     “I was a prisoner of war. However, I wasn’t mistreated in the way you might be thinking. I was actually injured in the field and they saved me from the brink of death. My arm had already been infected by gangrene by the time they had taken me hostage. They weren’t inhumane though, instead, they amputated it and fit me into a labor camp where I harvested crops alongside other POWs. And then one day they pulled me out of the field and put me into a cryogenic pod similar to the one you were stored in. There were talks around me that I would become the ‘champion’. I never learned what that meant, however. A few months into the freeze, an attack was launched on the camp. I was tucked away deep and the pod was powered by solar rays. About six years ago the solar panels were discovered and removed by nearby farmers and the pod was left to run through its stored energy. And when it opened I escaped, but as you know, muscles are very reluctant at first. I had to crawl and survive on vermin and bugs that got in my path.” Shiro glanced in Allura’s direction briefly, who was cringing into herself. Bugs, Keith had learned, were never something she enjoyed. However, ‘vermin’ didn’t bother her as she kept four mice as pets. “Eventually, I was discovered, taken to a rehabilitation center, and came back to America once I received word of an American experiment similar to the one I had endured. I had kept in touch with Lance after I left, but I never knew that you were experiencing the same thing that I had. I suppose it never clicked in my mind.”

     An expression of pure horror cast a veil across Keith’s features, growing worse as Shiro explained each scenario. He felt almost guilty when the first thought that came to mind was ‘ _ At least I’m not alone. _ ’ Shiro looked the same as he always had that much was true. His expressions varied and dark circles creased under his eyes in worry more than they had seventy years ago, but he was still Shirogane Takashi. Even his dark hair was similar to when they had last seen each other, except now Shiro’s dark crew cut had been replaced with a dark undercut and a tuft of white hair that stuck out in every direction at the front of his hairline. “Is that why your hair is duo-toned, because your hibernation was interrupted?”

     “Ah, no, actually. That would be Allura’s doing, she is a beauty school dropout after all. And it’s not called duo-tone, it’s trendy. You should know, Mr. Fashionista.” They both chuckled lightly, the tension in the air having fled the room.

     Lance piped up from beside them, “Fashionista? More like fashion disaster. Didn’t you know mullets have been out of style since the 80’s?” Keith whirled to face Blue’s duplicate and once again was struck by the resemblance. He only had a brief chance to analyze Lance’s features before collapsing but now realized that for every similarity there was a difference to counter it. While his grandfather’s eyes were a deep cobalt, Lance’s were a more diluted shade bordering somewhere between cornflower and light sapphire. His freckles were more compact and spread further up the bridge of his ski slope nose before scattering across his forehead, similar to confetti being launched from a party popper. His jawline was his grandfather’s, however. His sharp jawline, cheekbones, and chin gave off an impish vibe, showcasing his obviously mischievous personality. And his aura, god his aura was beautiful. Blue encased him head to toe, a rarity in this world. Blue was the color of calm balanced thoughts, sensitivity, compassion, intimacy. Even his Lance wasn’t completely blue, no, he had flecks of gold and green through his aura. But this Lance was a different story entirely.  _ A different person _ , Keith reminded himself. 

     “Dude, why do you keep staring at me? Do I have something on my face?” Breaking himself from the trance, Keith looked around in a daze. 

     “What?”

     “You keep staring at me, man. It’s giving me the heeby-jeebies. You look like Blue when she’s in one of those moods where she just stares into the corner of a room and then takes off across the house.”

     “I’m sorry, who?”

     “My cat. She’s a pureblood Persian.” His chest puffed out proudly and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Cats equal chicks, dude.” 

     “I’m more of a dog person, I guess.” He was so similar to his grandfather and immediately Keith knew that he was going to be a handful. 

     “Don’t be like that, we bonded, ya’ know? I cradled you in my arms.” Keith was suddenly taken aback, his face flushing red out of embarrassment. He had blocked his arrival back onto this plane of existence out of his mind once he had learned that he was using Lance’s lap as a pillow.

     “I-that didn’t happen.”

     “It totally did!”

     “No, no it didn’t.” He rubbed at his face, praying the friction would erase the night’s events. Hunk saved him from damaging his skin by announcing that he had a cake in the kitchen that needed tending to and suggested that the others travel upstairs to their dorm room. Pidge led the way babbling about how she couldn’t wait to show Keith Mario Kart and to ‘prove the real limits of their friendship’. As they reached the end of the hallway, Pidge turned abruptly into a nearby room sending an oblivious Keith directly into Lance. He quickly grabbed the wall but felt Lance’s hands around his waist, steadying him. 

     “Woah there,” His oceanic eyes were full of concern. The others had already filed into the room, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway. As Keith turned to follow their lead, when Lance caught his wrist. “Keith, stay here for a second. I want to apologize. My Popo used to tell us all about you as kids, he wasn’t afraid of being who he was around us, ya’ know? He was our family and we grew up knowing that while he did love my Momo a lot, there was always someone that he loved as well. It was like you and Momo occupied two different sides of his heart and he would pass through a revolving door every day. Some days he loved you more than anything in the world, other days he was so happy to be with her. And I know you probably felt the same towards him. I’ve been told so many times that he and I are similar, but please understand, I’m not him. I will never be him. I’m me okay, Keith? You don’t have to tiptoe around me or really even the others for that matter. We all want to be friends with you. Not because you are a hometown hero but because you are you, and our grandparents all adored you.” He patted Keith’s arm before slinging a long arm around his shoulders. “Now let’s get in there and fall to our deaths off of a virtual racetrack.”

     It was almost as though Lance knew just what to say to him. Like he had been prepped to speak that way. His mind was racing a mile a minute but he allowed Lance to lead him into the small dorm without hesitation. And for the first time since waking up in the twenty-first century, he truly felt as though he was allowed to fit in with society once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed that!! We're onto a bit of fluff after this. There will still be a good amount of angst, don't worry. But it's nothing like what I've been putting out lately. Sorry if you guys are mainly coming back for that part of it. Please stay, I love you all. ^^;;;  
> Find me on:  
> Tumblr: Kyojinouji.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: Twitter.com/KyojinOuji


	5. Angels on the Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry it took me double the time to post this that it normally does, but it's also double the regular length!   
> I know I promised you guys a fluffy chapter so I really hope you enjoy this one.   
> Also thank you guys for all of the kind messages you've been leaving me on here and Tumblr. You all are the sweetest things!

> _ “And don't tell me if I'm dying _
> 
> _ 'Cause I don't want to know _
> 
> _ If I can't see the sun _
> 
> _ Maybe I should go _
> 
> _ Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming _
> 
> _ Of angels on the moon _
> 
> _ Where everyone you know _
> 
> _ Never leaves too soon. _
> 
> _ Yeah you can tell me all your thoughts _
> 
> _ About the stars that fill polluted skies _
> 
> _ And show me where you run to _
> 
> _ When no one's left to take your side _
> 
> _ Don't tell me where the road is _
> 
> _ 'Cause I just don't want to know _
> 
> _ No, I don't want to know.” _
> 
>  
> 
> ****Thriving Ivory** \- _Angels on the Moon_ **

 

     Mario Kart was more difficult than the rest of the group had let on. It wasn’t the multi-faceted controls that proved to be the most difficult portion of the game, no those were easy enough to catch onto. It required as much concentration and hand-eye-coordination as knitting as proved to be the least difficult of the challenges. The speed bumps just so happened to be the crew he was playing against. Only four people could play at a time and to start Keith sat to the side with Hunk regarding the racers with suspicion. Jokingly, Hunk mentioned that he thought Allura would be the least aggressive as this appeared to be her first time playing the game as well. However, as soon as the countdown began, Allura’s regularly schooled features transformed into something darker and more determined. She gripped the pro-controller with such ferocity, Keith briefly feared that the small plastic device would crack right in half under pressure. Her eyes burned with solid determination as the buzzer rang out, releasing them from behind the line, and she began her rampage. First, Shiro was promptly thrown to the side in a vicious show of territorial claim drawing out a long whine from where he sat. Next, Pidge fought hard against her for ownership of a glowing item box before being hit with the weapon that came out of it. It had happened in such a sequence that Keith hardly had time to process the small bomb she had acquired. After the first lap, the three other players kept their distance by at least two rankings until the final stretch when Lance came barreling up beside her. He had stowed away a gold mushroom just for this moment. He believed that he had won first place until suddenly a blue shell slammed directly into the small of his character’s back, launching him off of the track in a heartbeat. The small yellow fellow hardly had time to readjust him on the path before a pink princess in a cat shaped car zoomed past him, staking her claim on the first place prize. Outside of the game, Lance whirled on Allura. 

     “I can’t believe you.” Her smirk grew into a large grin before she burst out laughing, followed by a chorus. Shiro snaked his arm around her waist and pressed his face into her neck, effectively stifling his quiet chuckling. Lance pointed accusingly, “And you! You’re our teacher, you’re supposed to stand up to the bullies that harass your precious students.”

     “Precious students, my ass, Lancelot. I haven’t been your teacher for an entire semester and you were constantly the one bringing potential harm to everyone and everything in my lectures. Or are we going to choose to disregard the fact that you ran around the lab and cranked every gas system to full blast in order to evacuate the classroom long enough to make me extend the final exam by a day?”

     Lance feigned a gasp and clutched at his heart. “Why, I never would do such a thing, Mr. Takashi. In my day-” He was cut off abruptly by Keith’s sudden laughter. “What?”

     “Your name,” He wheezed, “Is it really Lancelot?”

     Lance stared at him, blue eyes dilated in a way similar to that of a cat’s. His mouth floundered open for a second before snapping closed. “What? No, who hates their kid enough to name them Lancelot?”

     “King Ban of Benwick and his wife, Elaine," Pidge perked up from her place next to Hunk, a Cheshire smile implanting itself on her face.

     Shiro’s laughter bubbled up from his chest, surrounding the room with a bright sound. “No, no, Keith. His name is Lance through and through, but given the way he flirted with every girl in sight,” He cast a specified glance in his direction, receiving a small shrug and lopsided smirk as a response. “I elected that his name should instead be Lancelot. Given that Lancelot fell for anyone who claimed to be his Guinevere.” Keith didn’t recall ever having studied the Knights of the Round Table but from what he remembered hearing, Lancelot was one of King Arthur’s most trusted knights. However, he fell in love with the king’s wife, Queen Guinevere.  Adoptive son of the Lady of the Lake fit Lance quite well given his oceanic aura. 

     Everything about Lance screamed water-born and natural. From the way, he maintained a calm persona to the manner in which he drifted with the ebb and flow of things. Lance embodied the spirit of the lake, a nymph who had crawled ashore to sun itself. The way the beams of setting sunlight filtered between the shades veiling the room’s large picture windows. 

     “Hunk, he’s doing that thing again. The one where he stares at me like I’m an alien.” Lance’s voice broke him from his daze, shattering all silent revelries regarding his beauty. Revelries that obviously didn’t happen because, frankly, he looked like a toad. His cheeks were full of chocolate cake, icing coating his lips and parts of his cheeks. “My eyes are up here, you know.” He had positioned his hands so that two fingers made crooks above his head and began wiggling them as though they were the eyestems of a snail-like being. Without hesitation, Keith leaned down and stuck a finger into the pile of icing he had left on his otherwise empty plate and deposited it directly onto the tip of Lance’s sharp nose. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as he shifted his focus between his attacker and the glop of frosting now inhabiting his face. “I was staring because you’ve got a little something on your face.” 

     He yelped in surprise as Lance’s battle cry echoed through the small dorm. Suddenly he was on the ground, Lance hovering overtop of him. His hands had been made thoroughly immobile as his wrists had been pinned above his head. “Pidge, grab his legs. Hunk, switch with me. Pretty boy needs to learn his lesson.” His smile was devious and oh so calculating. Mass hysteria began to spread through the room as Pidge grabbed onto his ankles and Hunk clasped onto his wrists. A plate full of icing smushed flush against his face as he bucked wildly, trying to dislodge his captures. Without warning, a pair of chilled hands touched his sides and proceeded to tickle him. The group had erupted into laughter, Allura and Shiro enjoying the sight before them. Keith burst into uncontrolled fits of giggles and screeches, tears running trails through the frosting. 

     After what felt like years, he was released. Gasping for breath, he remained sprawled on his back; Lance lay breathing heavily next to him, chest rising and falling swiftly. “You’re an asshole, you know.”

     Rolling onto his side, Lance propped his cheek against one arm; a toothy smile broadcasting how proud he was of the situation appeared slowly. “You started it.” Keith couldn’t help but sigh. He had come into this mess expecting the group to be judgemental and catty but instead he was embraced by a loving family. Pidge crawled over and rested her head against his chest. 

     “Not a bad group of people, now are we?”

     “No, I don’t think so.”

     Hunk laughed from his place near Lance and then proceeded to shimmy himself between them. Suddenly, the four of them were in a large pile all being constricted by the large cuddly bear. “Man, I just met you and I already like you, Keith. I feel like I’ve known you forever. I love you guys.” 

     Lance squeaked from his place near Hunk’s armpit, emitting a gasping sound. “Hunk, can’t breathe.” With a wheeze, he was released from the headlock of a hug. Allura looked at the group fondly but clicked her tongue once she realized the time. 

     Her voice was quiet, tentative as though she would scare Keith away. “It’s going to be dark soon; we should probably be on our way soon.” The room seemed to freeze, the atmosphere suddenly becoming tense once again. Disappointment shone through the pile, soften Allura’s expression. “Unless,” She began, “There is someone you can stay with here.” 

     It was a gamble and both of the knew it. But it was almost painful to be separated from the three he felt so fated to meet. Slowly, Keith began to sit up; prepared to throw his boots back on and head back to the cold, stark white hospital. Where everything smelled of disinfectant and the rooms were virtually devoid of warmth. However, as he began to sit up Lance threw an arm out to stop him. 

     “You know, my roommate left before the semester started. Got kicked out for behavioral problems or something.” His blue eyes flickered over to meet Keith’s violet ones. “Blue probably wouldn’t mind having company tonight. Plus, you look like a mess.” His grin was infectious as they both whipped around to meet Allura’s gaze. She clapped once, smiling widely. 

     “Then it’s settled! Keith will room with Lance for tonight. I will head back to the hospital and let them know of the development.” Before she could stand to brush herself off, Shiro’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. 

     “You could just...stay with me?” He actively tried to avoid her roaming aqua eyes as his face lit up in a vibrant red flush. 

     “That would be much more adequate. Thank you, Shiro. It is best that I stay in the same building as Keith, after all, I am his constant healthcare companion.” Lance gagged from his place on the floor, remarking something about Shiro being ‘whipped’ which led to Pidge scraping some of the leftover icing off of the cake and splatting it directly into his face while lecturing about Lance being a misogynist. Keith blinked owlishly at them, his mouth opening briefly before shutting with a snap. 

     Hunk seemed to notice his confusion quickly and turned the conversation in his direction. “What’s up, Keith?” 

     “I just- I guess I’ve missed a lot. Is slavery legal again?” The group stared in stunned silence and he quickly began again. “I thought it was abolished in the 1800’s, I don’t understand? Is Shiro under someone’s possession? I thought you taught here.” He felt his face fill with color as the room burst into laughter. It looked as though someone had turned the windows into light catching prisms as the dorm filled with iridescence that bounced off the walls. Sticky auras spread out from each person, staining the person next to them with saturated hues and causing the glow within the room to shine brighter. Keith was the only one who sat in stunned silence.

     The first person to regain some form of composure was Pidge, who wiped tears away before finally answering his question. “No, Keith, it’s a phrase. A really sexist one, but none the less, a phrase. It means Shiro has little to say in what he does because Allura controls his life. Which is obviously not true,” She cast a glare in Lance’s direction. “Because Allura and Shiro are both very independent and successful people.”  

     “Loosen up, Pidge. It was just a joke.”

     Both Keith and Pidge responded, “Tell better jokes,” and grinned widely at each other, giggling when Lance sighed in defeat. Keith turned to face Allura, who was tucked tightly under Shiro’s bulky bicep, only to be met with a delighted smile. 

     “What?” He felt his entire body freeze, afraid of the possibilities within her next statement.

     Her hands quickly lashed out to grip at his shoulder. “You’re smiling.” Her face was entirely blissful and tears threatened to show themselves yet somehow she seemed completely proud of him.

     He felt the corners of his mouth lower slightly, “Yeah, I guess I am.” She tittered before leaning against Shiro once more, his body molded to her like a second skin.

     “It’s nice, you know. Back at the hospital, I was beginning to wonder if you were capable of showing such a human expression.”

     “Human? Please, no human would choose to have hair that ridiculous.” Lance snickered, his lopsided smirk suddenly igniting molten irritation in Keith’s veins.

     “What is your fascination with my hair? You know, at the rate you’re going, I’m starting to think you have a mullet fetish.”

     Lance opened his mouth to respond but slowly closed it as though he needed to rethink his response. Suddenly, the ball was rolling once more as he quickly snarked back, “So you admit it’s a mullet.”

     “So you don’t deny you have a fetish?”

     “I never said I did!”

     “You never said you didn’t either!” Lance reminded him of a beehive, constantly buzzing around searching for attention but someone called him out on it, he immediately lashed out. In a warped sort of way, he reminded Keith of himself. This Lance was hardly like his grandfather, but somehow the difference was reassuring; he was unsure why.

     Shiro tutted behind them, cutting off their bickering. “Are you four aware that you’re covered in frosting? This room is an absolute mess and unless you want it to be added to your tuition fees, I suggest you start cleaning.” His tone was meant to be stern, however, the warm look that masked his face said otherwise. Hunk groaned loudly, flinging his orange headband onto the plush yellow and green rug they all sat on. His dark hair now thoroughly mussed, he turned to face Lance.

     “This is your fault, you know.” 

     “Actually, Keith started it.”

     Keith glared in his general direction before pushing himself off of the floor. “I won't deny it, given that I am the bigger person here.” 

     Immediately Lance was by his side, shoulders rolled back and standing tall. “Actually, Keithy-boy, I think I’m the bigger person.” 

     “You literally are not, sit down or help me clean up this mess, Lance.” 

     “Nuh-uh, I totally am. Hunk, do you have a measuring tape?” Before Hunk could get off of the ground, Keith had unzipped his jacket pocket to pull out a coiled tailor’s ruler. “What the hell, do you just carry that wherever you go?” 

     “Do you have to patronize me constantly, Lance?”

     “It’s starting to become a hobby.”

     Keith pursed his lips briefly before unraveling the tape and allowing the end of it to hit the ground with a dull thump. “Is anyone willing to measure us?” Lance’s eyebrows raised slightly and he made his way directly into Keith’s personal bubble. 

     “We gonna do this then, Mullet Man?” 

     “You’re on, of course we are.” Shiro strode over and grabbed the measuring tape. His brows furrowed as he stares between the two of them. Beneath a heavy sigh, he mumbled something about ‘not shooting the messenger when this was over.’ They both fought each other by straightening themselves as much as possible without letting their feet leave the floor.

     Shiro stepped back and analyzed the two numbers in his head before meeting the anxious teen’s gazes. “Lance is taller by a half an inch.” He whipped around to meet Keith’s brewing glare, sapphire eyes gleaming.

     “Told ya’, short stuff.”

     “It’s half an inch! Five centimeters!”

     “It’s five more centimeters than you have!” His grin was infuriating and Keith wanted more than anything to smack it off of his overly smug face. Or kiss him until he couldn’t make that kind of expression again. Startled by his own thoughts, he jolted forward. A chill ran down his spine reminding him that no matter how much he pretended to belong in this time, it wasn’t his. None of this was and these people were not his. Not even Shiro, who came from his own time, but had a loving partner..

     Obviously noticing Keith’s sudden discomfort, Hunk drew the conversation in a different direction. “You know guys, the showers are still open. We probably could all use one, unless icing has restorative properties that I never knew about.” The group seemed to collectively sigh at the thought of bodies and clothing. Allura lifted her head in realization. 

     “Pidge, do you have pajamas I could borrow while I through my dress in the wash? While I feel I could fit into some of Shiro’s clothing, most may be too baggy.” Pidge nodded enthusiastically, leading her to a small wardrobe in the corner of the room.

     Lance glanced at him expectantly, already prepared for Keith’s incoming question. “Do you have-” He smirked before shrugging towards the hall. As they made their way into the corridor, Lance turned to close the open door. 

     “I totally have some pants from like two years ago that might fit you, half pint.”

     “I honestly think it’s best if you just stop talking.”

 

**-**

 

     Warm water spilled down his shoulder blades in sheets, coating crevices that ached to feel some kind of attention. The small group’s self-proclaimed beauty guru had not only laid out a set of lounging clothes for him to change into but also a small tote of sample shampoos and soaps he had gathered from walking around beauty conventions with his mysterious sisters. Sisters that his grandfather gushed over in his file but never had provided much actual information on. The body washes ranged in a large spectrum of scents, most floral. However, Keith managed to dig through the basket until he located a small bottle of Bvlgari. The gentle musk immediately hit him, full of rosewood, pepper, and something refreshing. Green tea? It washed over him in a calming blanket; his insides going fuzzy. He found for the first time in seventy-five years that he was able to breathe freely, the weight that once settled over his chest had now dissipated.

     Emerging from the small stall, he pulled a fuzzy black towel from the pile Lance had left him and wrapped it tightly around his waist. Water still ran in the stall nearby, alluding that the others were still disposing of errant icing. No matter the number of times he searched the space around the pile of things Lance had left him, there was only one towel.  _ How did he expect him to dry his hair and body with a single towel? _ He quickly unwound the towel from his waist to dry the dripping strands that hung close to his shoulders, hoping to avoid dampening the fresh shirt that had been set out for him. As he lowered his arms to re-tie it along his hips, Lance sauntered out of his stall. With a loud hiss, Keith scrambled to maintain his dignity. His sudden outburst caused Lance to spin around, eyes scorching along the length of his body. His gaze came to rest on the visible muscles in Keith’s legs before he let out a long whistle. 

     “Shit man, remind me not to call you shrimp ever again.” His eyes twinkled with a devious gleam as Keith struggled to form a sentence. His face was bright red, flushed with a shade that would put a ripe heirloom tomato to shame. 

     “Watch your mouth!” He sputtered, hands clenching at the towel that had been once again secured around his waist. He could feel his eyes begin to water out of embarrassment. Lance didn’t even see  _ anything;  _ the towel had already been in place when he turned around. Yet somehow, he couldn’t face him. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason. Lance’s skin was covered in dark freckles, his shoulders and neck looked as though someone had attempted to bake a human shaped chocolate chip cookie. He normally looked incredibly lanky, but out in plain view like this Keith could see toned muscles nearly everywhere. It was almost impressive that he wasn’t bulkier, especially along his chest. And- Keith drew his focus away; his blush maddening.  _ Way to go, Keith. Make everything incredibly homosexual, just like you did with his grandfather. The boy is straight as a pin.  _

     “You alright, dude?” He glanced up in a rush, sputtering all the while.  _ Eloquent. _  He cast a thumb back towards the shower stall before snatching his pile of clothing and scampering into hiding. Everyone else may choose to get changed out in the open, but he was from the 1940’s for goodness sake. He had some dignity that he would prefer to remain intact. After pulling on the plaid flannel pants Lance had given him, he couldn’t help but glower at the choice of t-shirt. It was a simple black pocket shirt featuring a small white cat inside the small fabric chamber. Grumbling all the while, he pulled it on over still damp hair. He twisted his hair up in the towel before marching out into open, ignoring the way the hems of his pants drug along the slick floor; collecting water. 

     Lance perched on a nearby bench, thankfully clothed. His eyes were shut tight, sharp nose scrunched as he pinched the bridge. Long fingers drummed against the empty space beside him, ankles crossed in front, a look of bliss gracefully coating his features. Keith wondered briefly if he had ever done work as a model, however, the thought was cut short when a high pitched noise shot through the air followed by a putrid smell. A blue eye cracked open and the ever-vexing lopsided grin plastered itself to his face once more. Keith pulled a grimace; mumbling, “You’re disgusting.” Before sitting down on the bench opposite of him.  

     “Nature’s natural perfume, my guy.” His hair appeared darker than usual, tinted by the water, and it had plastered itself to his forehead in a mess of waves and curls. His eyes roamed over Red’s ensemble. “Did you look in the pocket?”

     “No, why would I look in the pocket?” Lance leaned forward and crooked a finger over the edge of the fabric, tugging it down to reveal the rest of the white cat. It stared up at Keith, one paw gesturing rudely. The cartoon cat was flipping him off, and he was most certainly offended. A gasp pulled itself from his throat, violet eyes flying back up once more to meet sapphire. Eyes ablaze with silent laughter, Lance grinned infuriatingly from where he sat. Keith looked to the ceiling, searching for some kind of being that could help him out of this situation and away from the impish boy who was trying hard to worm his way into his heart. “Why are you like this?”

     They conversed idly while waiting for Hunk. They covered pop stars that Keith hadn’t been around to witness; people like Hannah Montana, Beyoncé, and someone Lance could barely even keep a straight face to introduce, Rick Astley. Only when a questioning yellow aura presented itself in the small room were they able to start back down the hallway. They dropped Hunk back off at his and Pidge’s cozy room and said their goodnights to the departing duo of Allura and Shiro.

 

**-**

     On their way to Lance’s room, he didn’t once stop babbling about Blue. Keith chose to ignore his long-winded warnings about her impartialness to strangers and immediately kneeled to the ground, holding a hand out for her to sniff. Claws struck pale skin and he was immediately taken aback, shocked that the plump fluffball had the audacity to smack someone she just met. He squawked; exasperated at the behavior. His fell off balance, butt smacking into the hardwood floor beneath his feet. 

     “Keith!” His attention spun onto his incredibly peeved cat. “Blue, stop hissing, please. Keith, are you alright?” Blue eyes wide, his gaze peered straight through his very soul. He could feel himself slipping, slowly and carefully, as he tried so hard to hold onto the iced over cliff he so desperately clung to.  _ This is the grandson of your ex-lover, that’s why you feel this way. He doesn’t mean anything to you, you just met. You can’t do this. You can’t do this. He just is so similar to Lance. He is not yours. Nothing here is yours.  _ Keith scuttled backward, back pressing into the cool drywall behind him. Lance followed him closely, a hand snaking behind his head in attempt to pull him away from the wall. “Keith-”

     “Don’t touch me!” Screeching, he batted Lance’s grip away. His eyes watered both out of embarrassment and fear of his own emotions. Lance peered at him aghast, heavily lashes falling softly against his cheeks briefly before he crawled backward a few paces. His body still faced Keith, who had curled in on himself and now sat propped against the wall, and his gaze never drifted off of his red face. Blue had positioned herself strategically between the two of them, guarding Lance as though that was her only purpose. It was a while before either of them spoke. Keith had started to fade in and out of sleep when Lance finally broke the silence, his bare feet padding lightly against the floor until he came to stop next to Keith’s still form. He said nothing for a few heartbeats, however, his hand wound around Keith’s.

     “Buddy? You alright?” He watched the gentle bob of his head for confirmation before pressing further. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” At first, Keith shook his head, but a few moments passed and he let out a quiet breath. His back straightened against the wall, focus drifting to where Blue sat across the room, tail swishing angrily around her. 

     “She startled me.” He hoped the lie would provide enough coverage for the conversation to be dropped and moved past but Lance’s gaze was cast over by scrutiny, pushing him to elaborate. “You look like Lance.”

     “I am Lance.”

     “Not my Lance.” He sighed lightly before continuing. “No, my Lance is long gone. He was going to be ninety-five this year. I wish I could have been there for him when he lost Nyma, or when your father was born. I wish I could have seen him grow old.” He pressed a stray tear into his skin with the back of his hand. “I was supposed to grow old with him, you know. Instead, I grew old so rapidly that we had to stop it. My bones were mush, my skin was wrinkled and black. Constantly covered in rashes and bruises. I bruised so easily and everything hurt so terribly. The whites of my eyes had gone yellow and were covered in crust more often than not. My hair became brittle and fell out in clumps. I couldn’t eat, everything was difficult to digest or even chew. My gums were sore and bled constantly, my lips cracked and dry.” He paused. “But somehow, he loved me. Your grandfather stayed by my side until the end, I just wish I could have done the same for him.”

     “He stopped visiting as often once he married your grandmother, once the family we were supposed to have became one without me. I figure he just forgot about me, I never changed so it wasn’t as though I was interesting enough to keep frequent tabs on. He left me behind, and while I want to hate him for it, I can’t bring myself to. I’m bitter, I’m furious, and I’m lonely, but I don’t hate him. I could never hate him.” Keith tried to burrow further into himself, only to have his chin held up by Lance’s warm grip. His eyes were gentle and swollen, a sign that he had been crying silently. 

     “You felt betrayed, Keith. Who wouldn’t? You loved him with everything you had and he moved on while you were stuck in time.” He had so easily summed up Keith’s emotions, a single swoop and it was as though he understood him better than anyone before. Lance let his eyes drift close and sighed gently. Without opening them, he tightened his grip on Keith’s hand. “He’s not dead, Keith.”

     The air left the room as though a swirling vortex had opened in the middle of it. Keith fought to keep his breathing steady as teary eyes made contact with the gentle blue and red of Lance’s own. “What?” His body began to shake profusely, everything spinning as though they were stuck on a carousel ride that he so desperately wanted off of. “Where is he, Lance? Why didn’t you tell me, Lance? Why didn’t you mention that!” His desperate cries grew muffled as Lance drew him against his chest, allowing him the beat against it with his tight fists. 

     “I thought you knew! I thought you knew, Keith.” His voice was gentle, soothing. However, Keith continued his assault as though it was his only job. “We worked to piece together the files, Keith. There was no obituary, you know that.”

     “I was too scared of the file,” His fists slowed their tirade, becoming nothing more than light taps against Lance’s chest. “I never checked the last few pages.” Desperation struck him like a bullet to the heart as his head whipped up to look Lance in the eye. “Where is he?” Lance avoided his gaze but Keith’s hands settled against his cheeks, forcing him to look directly at him. “Tell me, Lance.”

     “He’s in a nursing home, Keith. He’s not well.” Keith felt himself pale and the desperation that once filled his chest now deflated, transfiguring into something similar to fear. His jaw went slack along with the rest of his body and Lance scrambled to hold him up. Suddenly a fire lit in his heart.

     “It’s fine if he’s sick we’ll just put him in a cryogenic pod. He can endure what I went through, he’s a strong man.” 

     “It’s not like that, Keith. It’s not like Galra. It’s a disease you can’t cure, a disease of the brain.” His voice began to rise and crack like lightning through a July sky.  “And why would you want to do that to him, Keith? My grandad doesn’t need to go through it, you know how it feels, why would you wish it upon him. Who knows when they’d find a cure! It’s not going to happen, it’s not something you can just fix. Even if we were to do so, why would he want to? He’s ninety-five, Keith. He’s going to die soon, you have to deal with it!” His jaw snapped shut quickly as he processed the harshness of his words. Words that he had years to come to the realization of while Keith has only recently learned that his lover was still alive. “Oh god, Keith, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I shouldn’t have- You don’t deserve to be treated like this. You didn’t know, you had no idea. This is why I didn’t want to bring it up.” 

     Keith gazed at him, eyes glazed over and completely empty. It was as though his soul had completely flown the coop. Sensing something was amiss, Blue prodded her way over to the two boys who sat nestled in each other’s arms. She pulled her fuzzy body up onto Keith’s lap and inspected the duo. Almost as though he had snapped from a trance, Keith yelped and wiggled further into Lance’s shoulder, almost afraid of the tiny beast. Startled, her claws dug through the flannel covering his legs. Lance fell onto his side, laughing as his body slammed into the ground. 

     “She likes you, I think. Now that she knows you’re not a threat, you’re just a big crybaby.” 

     “So you admit I’m big?”

     “You’re big to her, dude. She’s a cat. To me, though, you’re no bigger than an ant.”

     “Half of an inch, you dolt!”

     “I know you are, but what am I?”

     The mood instantly turned from tense to something breathable, the three souls having intertwined into a single, unified spirit. Lance shot up, suddenly excited to test out an elaborate plan. He stumbled over his own feet while moving to the wardrobe. A large pile of pillows and blankets flopped out onto the ground beside him and he whirled around grinning. 

     “Wanna make a pillow fort?” The two fell into childish giggles, draping blanket after blanket around the railing of the tall bunk bed, creating a soft enclosed space. The two placed dozens of pillows around themselves and settled in with a bag of hardened Twizzlers and a small box of cereal Lance kept near his bed. After scrolling through the website, ‘Netflix’, Pidge had tried to explain to him only days prior, they managed to locate a ‘classic’ that Lance insisted they watch. Mean Girls was interesting, even if Lance kept quoting nearly every single scene. He didn’t stop even when they cycled through Dead Poets Society. Both of them fought tears until the end but as the final credits began to roll they could no longer hold back.

     Caught up in recent years of movie history, Lance insisted that they start the first season of Skins. Keith reprimanded him, complaining that he had never stayed up this late and Lance had class in the morning. They only made it halfway through the first episode when they both felt themselves drifting off. Keith was able to process was the feeling of warmth all around him, tenderly cupping him in a loving embrace, Lance pressed into his back. And a furry animal resting directly above his head, tail thumping against his face rhythmically.

     Lance’s voice vibrated against his ear, tickling his cheek. “Do you want to visit my grandfather tomorrow?” Keith hardly had to process his answer.

     “No.”

     Lance seemed taken aback, slightly lifting himself off of the bed by resting this head against the palm of his hand. “Why not?” His eyes were inquisitive, searching for the unspoken statement that drifted between them. Keith carefully rolled his body over as to not disturb the sleeping Blue. 

     “I don’t see a reason to. He’s not my Lance anymore.” His breath caught in his throat as he rolled onto his back, eyes traveling along the styrofoam planetary system dangling along the underside of the top bunk. “That’s wrong. I want more than anything to visit him. But I can’t help but feel like this wasn’t supposed to happen. Like I broke all laws of existence and I don’t have the right to just waltz back into his life looking the same as I always have. He doesn’t deserve that.” Lance’s eyes were heavily hooded, peering down at Keith beneath thick lashes. 

     “You mean, you aren’t ready.” Keith froze, knowing Lance would see through his lie if he tried to backtrack. He simply nodded before rolling onto his side so that he faced away from the crystalline gaze. Lance nestled his face into the back of Keith’s neck; a gesture of comfort. Keith relaxed against him, once again feeling safe. “Take your time, Keith. He missed you.” They both faded out of consciousness, Blue’s quiet purring carrying them off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it! Here starts the real plot, almost all of our main characters have been introduced, and Keith received slight closure.  
> Also just to clarify, the cuddling at the end is completely platonic. HONESTLY. Lance is a cuddle bug and such a sweet baby. 
> 
> Find me on:  
> Tumblr: KyojinOuji.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: Twitter.com/KyojinOuji
> 
> Get in the moment updates regarding the story on my Twitter, plus cute little spoilers. 
> 
> Updates every other day at 9:00pm EST. (Approximately). ^^;;


	6. You Could Be Happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet chapter leading up to one of the big ones. Hope you guys like it! This was meant to be the other half to the previous chapter, but due to length and time restraint I had to split them up to focus on editing them separately.

> _ “You could be happy and I won't know, _ __   
>  _ But you weren't happy the day I watched you go. _ __   
>  _ And all the things that I wished I had not said, _ __   
>  _ Are played in loops 'till it's madness in my head. _ __   
>  _ Somehow everything I own smells of you, _ __   
>  _ And for the tiniest moment, it's all not true. _ _   
>  _ _ Do the things that you always wanted to, _ _   
>  _ __ Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do.”
> 
>  
> 
> ****Snow Patrol -** _You Could Be Happy_**

 

  
  


    It wasn't the pale light that streamed through the window that woke Keith. Nor was it the light breath tickling the back of his neck, the slight movement of his hair as someone nuzzled into it, or the tail that brushed across his forehead. No, instead what heightened his consciousness what the sudden slamming on the dorm room door, repetitive and absolutely uncalled for. He didn’t set his feet on the cold, hard floor until upbeat music began to filter out of the speaker system near the back of the room. A sound similar to an air horn and the cheers of a distant crowd were played on full blast as a woman sang, “ _ You're a good soldier, choosing your battles. Pick yourself up and dust yourself off and back in the saddle, you're on the front line _ .” Her voice was vibrant, creating a wide variety of colors to explode behind Keith’s eyelids, illustrating a tropical and positive party. Upon opening the door he realized that the pounding had proceeded further down the corridor, each wooden frame was receiving a personal beating. The hall filled with students, their auras sticking to each other and creating a widespread rainbow. Each hue varied slightly, none ever the same as the one next to it. 

    “Nice boyfriend, Lance! Wild night?” A passing voice called jokingly into their room as a pillow soared over Keith’s head, promptly smacking the owner aggressively. He simply cast a grin and finger guns at Keith before walking over to return the weapon and proceeded down the hall. Blushing, he closed the door quickly before striding back the bed. Less than gracefully, he straddled Lance’s stomach, staring intently at the man’s face below him. Lance groaned in protest, squirming beneath him. 

    “I know you’re awake. Get up and explain to me the commotion.” Lance stirred again before opening his eyes and pushed lightly at him while trying to sit up. Keith lost his balance easily and slid onto his rump beside him. 

    “It’s just the morning wakeup call, dude. Nothing to be freaked out about.” 

    “Why is there a woman singing?” Lance gazed at him, baffled. His eyes became squinty as he cocked his head slightly. 

    “You’ve never heard Shakira?”

    “I’m a ninety-five-year-old man, Lance, no I am not familiar with Shakira.” 

    “That’s a damn shame.” Lance rolled back onto his side, burrowing deeper into the comfort of his plush bed. Glowering, Keith set a chilly hand against the exposed back of Lance’s long neck; gently fondling the small curls that lay at the base. He jumped at the sudden icy contact, body rolling the rest of the way off of the mattress and directly onto the hardwood below them. He remained sprawled where he fell, blue eyes drilling holes into Keith’s very core. “Dude, don’t touch me without a warning.” He could see his mouth moving, but no sound seemed to be coming out. Blood rushed in his ears and his gaze was glued to the tight ‘V’ that delved beneath the waistband of his blue...rubber ducky shorts? Unable to contain his outburst, Keith grabbed the nearest pillow to muffle his laughter. As he allowed his eyes to drift back up he realized that Lance was not only standing but now looming over the edge of the bed. Tan arms pushed against the mattress, effectively trapping Keith beneath them. He wore the smirk of a victor however given the current situation he brought a hungry shark to mind. Keith wiggled beneath him, searching for an escape route. 

    “You’re the one who clung to me like a lost child last night.”

    “Well, you didn’t complain about it, now did you?” Despite it being early morning, Lance smelled of lemongrass and salt. The proximity was so incredibly close that his breath teased at the strands of Keith’s hair fanning out beneath him, nearly blending in with the deep navy bedspread. For the fraction of a second it seemed as though Lance moved closer, however, someone cleared their throat from inside the room causing the two of them to spring apart. Face flushed red Keith instinctively placed his hands against his face, hoping the chill would help to regulate the heat spreading along his nose. Lance stood defensively with his back facing him, placed directly between him and the intruder. Past his lanky form, Keith could identify a frustrated Allura, hands on her hips, flanked by the apologetic faces of Pidge and Hunk.

    “We tried to stop her from barging in here-”

    “She’s just too quick-”

    “And it’s like she can see through lies with some kind of weird emotional x-ray vision!”

    “Mind reading! Yeah, she’s like a mind reader!” They stumbled over each other’s sentences, filling in the blanks of the current situation. However, one question still remained in place. 

    “What’s going on?” His mind moved sluggishly, still trying to process the incident with Lance from only moments before. 

    “What’s going on?  _ What’s going on _ ?” Allura’s voice mimicked nails on a chalkboard; octave raising, “What’s going on is you weren’t answering your cellular device, Keith! How am I to know where you are and whether or not you are still in a stable condition if you don’t  _ answer your phone _ ?” Her twinkly accent was cold as stone, each word hitting Keith and shattering his icicle-frail bones. 

    “I-I’m sorry. I’m not accustomed to having it with me yet.” His voice cracked slightly, violet eyes deer-like and alarmed. Allura sighed in defeat, unable to meet his delicate gaze. 

    “No excuses, Keith. If you had any idea of the panic I went through to find you...This is your first time being on such a long lease, don’t make my father shorten it.”

    “Yes, Mom.” A small intake of breath was heard from across the room. Hunk and Lance simultaneously ‘oooh-ed’ quietly while Keith fought hard not to glance back up at Allura, the mistake now echoing through the caverns of his mind. Before he could backtrack, she had already processed the situation and was now staring down at him brightly. She placed a hand on his shaking shoulders, a grin bright on her lips. 

    “Keith, do you look at me as a mother figure?” Unwilling to lie to her and once again fall victim to her wrath, he nodded profusely. He caught Lance roll his eyes while exuberant laughter echoed inside of the near-empty room. Lance didn’t really have much in the small dorm. A blue shag rug lay haphazardly strewn in beside the bunk, deep gray and white curtains framed the large picture window; their hems brushing the top of a squatty black dresser lined with mounted photos. Each one held a group of people that appeared strikingly similar to Lance. It wasn’t until Keith’s eyes landed on a photo of two adults wrapped in each other’s arms did his heart stop. The faded colors of the photo did little to stop the vibrancy of their features. They were both tall, not that you could tell from the photo itself, and lanky. Their faces were warm in the other’s presence, both strikingly similar in appearance, and their tan skin was lined with wrinkles and smile lines. While the female’s hair was a medium brown and straight as a die, the male’s was chestnut; wild and curling in every which way. Even the sepia tint could not dilute the two pairs of brilliant cobalt eyes staring back at him. The girl was so obviously the youngest McClain child, Marcie, and that could only mean...The Lance in this photo had changed, albeit slightly, so why didn’t he?  _ Why was he left to remain looking like a rejuvenated version of the man he was when he stepped into healing pod? _

    Lance stepped into his field of view instantly, cutting off all connection with the photos. Arms crossed he shook his head gently, mouth forming the words, “Next time.” The action was minuscule and undetectable by anyone else in the room, however, it startled Keith directly out of his lost thoughts and back into the present where Hunk, Pidge, and Allura, had moved on to discussing breakfast. There was a common room featuring two restaurant cafeterias as well as a cafe slightly off campus. Pidge counted something on her fingers and shook her head, alluding that there would not be enough time to stop by the cafe before their first class, therefore, the best option would be one of the two common areas. 

    Lance’s insistence on holding onto his hand during their trip through the school was filled with iron-clad determination. Keith, at first alarmed, refused to comply. He even went as far as walking several paces ahead of Lance but he quickly caught up in two strides because of his  _ long ass legs _ . Suddenly, Keith felt his wrist getting jerked to the side as Lance called after the other three, “Hang on! I lost a contact. We’ll meet you down there.” With a sprinkling of complaints from Allura, they were separated and Lance pulled him around a corner. Icy eyes shot through his very soul, sending frozen tendrils along his veins, branching out to every part of his mind. Keith shrank away from him as he began to open his mouth, but his words were gentle. 

    “What’s up with you?”

    “What’s up with me?” Suddenly, his feet felt firmly planted beneath him and he grew to his average height. “You’re what’s up with me! Why do you insist on touching me when you know my past?”

    Lance blinked owlishly at him, mouth forming a thin ‘o’ before snapping shut. He pulled in a deep breath, “It’s how the times are, I’m sorry. I’m used to be touchy feely with everyone in my friend group and even though we’ve only just met I feel incredibly drawn to everything about you. It’s like I want to be next to you, touching you.” His gaze had met the floor, face flushed in embarrassment. Keith reeled from the words instantly.  _ It’s like I want to be next to you, touching you.  _ Lance seemed to process the double meaning of his statement and his expression faltered. Scrambling to clear the misunderstanding, his arms began to flail wildly. “No! I mean, I just- You’re warm. Even though you try to give everyone the cold shoulder, it’s obvious that you really care. It feels like standing in sunlight wherever I stand next to you and when I touch you it’s comfortable. I mean, for me at least, for you obviously not,” He stumbled over every word, his usually calm demeanor dissolving the further he pressed into his mistake. Keith couldn’t stop his hand as it came up to rest against his cheek, freezing Lance instantly. 

    “It’s fine, Lance. I appreciate you apologizing.” As he swung around to leave the corridor they had entered, a dull ache pulled at his heart. The feeling of guilt had set in, gnawing at the back of his mind to fix the situation. He stretched an arm out behind him and couldn’t help but chuckle when Lance immediately latched onto him. As they strode down the hallway his mind couldn’t help but embark on a thought process that led him to a single conclusion; it wouldn’t be so bad if he allowed himself the luxury of this more often. The contradictory liberation of someone anchoring themselves to him. 

    Keith began to fret as they drew closer to the cafeterias. He hadn’t been in a large body of students since he and Lance had started going steady their senior year of high school. Thinking back on it now, he had graduation in 1939, nearly seventy-seven years had passed. It was a given that the class sizes had grown immensely. The Garrison appeared to be a large college from the outside but now standing within its walls, the building towered over the students. It’s spacious common room was fully carpeted, the red couches from the night before had seemingly multiplied now that Keith was able to register the true selection available. The chamber had been split into five sections; each one adorning its own color. The center of the room was a jet black hue, couches to match. Accents of purple and white coursed through the carpet and above it hung a pennant featuring a barbed sword and crown. The other sections were identical in style however they were designed separately in yellow, green, red, and blue. Above each hung pennants similar to the center’s, however, these each featured the face of a mecha lion.

    Lance’s voice sounded beside him, a deep groan pushing from his throat. “I forgot to ask what cafeteria they were heading into.” His was slick against Keith’s but neither complained. The connection between them was comfortable even in the silence; auras gently swirled together forming a muddled purple-brown shade. A small statured head of tawny hair brushed past them while Lance fiddled with his phone. 

    “Pidge!” Keith’s voice caught in his throat as he realized that the head did not belong to his friend, instead, it rested upon broad shoulders. As the boy turned around, Keith was shocked at the resemblance between him and his younger sister. Before him stood an exact copy of Matt Holt, who Keith quickly assumed to be his grandfather. “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

    Matt grinned at him before extending a hand, faltering when he noticed that the hand he needed to shake was in Lance’s grasp. Switching arms, he took hold of Keith’s free hand. “It’s alright. I’m her brother, people get us mixed up constantly. I thought it was bad  _ before  _ she cut her hair.” His voice was gentle but full of soft awe, as though he was speaking to a science experiment instead of a living, breathing human. “You’re Keith Kogane. It’s an honor to meet you.” A voice called over to him, urging that he hurry over to check out the month’s newest Netflix releases. Waving shyly, he ran in the direction of his friends leaving behind a baffled Keith/Lance duo.

    Keith glanced in Lance’s direction, silently pleading for clarification. A smirk, a shrug, and a slap later, Keith only received a response that sounded like, “You’re a hometown hero,” before his phone  _ dinged  _ and Lance’s attention was quickly drawn away. “They’re in Valiant.” Keith’s wrist was pulled ahead of him as Lance lead them towards the cafeteria placed directly between the yellow and green quintants. 

    “Lance, what do the colors mean? I noticed Hunk and Pidge’s dorm is in the yellow hallway and your’s is blue.”  

    “Oh, it’s basically an old legend. There are five dormitories in the academy and each is connected to some myth about five guardian lionesses who could form into this one giant lion warrior that saved the galaxy like a thousand years ago. Pretty crazy shit if you ask me, not that I believe in it or anything, like maybe it’s true in an alternate universe or something. But I really wouldn’t want to be on their bad side, ya’ know?” They spotted their small group, with the addition of Shiro, sitting near the floor to ceiling windows. “Technically, the red and green dorms are girls only and the opposite applies for blue and yellow. But ever since Pidge came here everything got thrown to the wind. She’s told you her story, right?”

    “Only that you ruined everything and almost got her kicked out of here.”

    “Listen! That’s not all there was to it. There weren’t any slots left for female students so she snuck in as a guy. She was rooming with Hunk and given the fact that I didn’t know her secret back then I walked into their dorm without knocking like I would do with Hunk back home. I didn’t expect her to be wrapping ace bandages around her chest.”

    “What’s so bad about that? She mentioned that you ran out of there in a panic.”

    His expression turned ashen as he pressed on, “You can’t bind with ace bandages, dude. It’s not safe, it’ll hurt you in the long run. It basically reshapes your ribs and makes it impossible to breathe correctly. My little brother, Jordan, taught me that before he had top surgery. I felt like shit for ruining the chance that she’d have to come out and I panicked. I called Jordan while I was running down the hall, praying that Pidge didn’t see me, and I guess people overheard. I mean who wouldn’t have, I was such an inconsiderate toolbag and I didn’t even bother getting to a private location. I convinced Jordie to send me one of his old binders, it seemed to do the job for Pidge until the rumors spread.” They only had mere seconds before they were in earshot of the group so Lance hurried through his final spiel, eyes glancing furtively to check their range. “Administrators heard, but because Pidge paid for this year in full they decided to allow her to stay. There weren’t any open rooms in the female wings though so because of Hunk’s impeccably clean record and  _ darling personality _ they allowed them to stay together until next year. ” Lance grinned at him, white teeth sparkling in the cafeteria’s hospital grade lighting. “And that’s what you missed on Glee.”

    Keith didn’t have time to question his bizarre phrasing, as soon as the duo hit the table questions rained down upon them like fiery rain from the heavens. 

    “When did you two start dating?”

    “Did you hook up last night? Did you use protection?”

    “I didn’t know cake was an aphrodisiac, I’m so sorry-”

    “Keith, I didn’t approve this kind of behavior, you haven’t even been out of a coma for three months-”

    Keith’s face filled with heat and color as he quickly detached his hand from Lance’s. Growling, “I thought you said friends do this in the twenty-first century,” low enough for only the two of them to hear. At least he had the decency to cast an apologetic smile in Keith’s direction. Lance cut them off quickly, hands waving frantically at the group. The outbursts had drawn a circle of eyes to be cast around them, but Lance chose to ignore them, promptly planting himself in an open chair. 

“I just didn’t want little Keithy to get lost in the crowds, he’s so tiny afterall. Could easily get swept away in the current of hungry college students.” His statement earned him a hard  _ whap  _ to the back of the head. 

    Evidently, someone in the group had already purchased their breakfasts, as two trays sat piled high with fruit, pancakes, and a large jar of milk. Keith’s hungry stomach growled as the smell wafted into his nostrils. He could barely process the flavour as he shoveled the meal into his mouth; Lance gently ran a hand across his back, prepared if he began to choke. Hunk smiled from his seat next to Pidge, “So? How do you like it?”

    Keith’s head whipped up, the end of an orange slice still sticking out between his grinning lips. Swallowing the citrus piece, his voice was full of excitement, “Hunk, did you make all of this?”

    “Well, yeah! I help out in the kitchen every morning before anyone else even gets out of bed.”

    “‘S sho good,” Mumbling around a mouth stuffed with food, his eyes locked once again to the plate in front of him. Damned he’d be if he didn’t eat all of it, he hadn’t seen this much food since the night before his mother passed away. He wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers after growing up during years where you never knew when you’d receive your next meal. Hunk appeared pleased, hands crossing behind his head as he leaned back in his chair; a triumphant smirk plastered across his face.

    Keith glanced to his right, checking on Lance’s progress. His plate had been completely cleared, syrup and all, however beside his plate sat a full glass of milk. Deep puce eyes locked with sapphire, gaze suddenly turning fierce. “Why haven’t you drank your milk, Lance?” The larger man grumbled against the palm of his hand before turning away. Keith set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. “In my day, children looked at milk like nectar of the gods, Lancelot.” He jerked out of his gentle grip only to be instantly reclaimed with iron force. “Drink your milk.”

Lance whirled around, eyes filled with fierce flames impatiently licking at the brim. “I’m lactose intolerant.”

    “You ate more icing last night that I’ve seen a human consume in an entire lifetime, you liar.” Lance scrambled to build onto his story but immediately halted when he saw the resolute expression settled on Keith’s face. “Drink your fucking milk, Lance, or so help me God.” With a stubborn squawk, Lance lifted the glass to his lips and chugged the entire thing without breaking eye contact. 

    “Are you happy, you asshole?” He gagged, forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. “Brainfreeze, oh man.” The table erupted into stunned laughter, all shocked that Keith had managed to antagonize him to the point of actually consuming the despised substance. The meal subsided and the group fell into quiet conversation before Allura announced that it would be best for them to take their leave. Disappointed, but not wanting to overstay their welcome, Keith stood to leave but not before Lance grabbed onto his wrist. The sensation was becoming an aggravatingly familiar occurrence. “You forgot something in my room! Allura, he’ll meet you by the front gate.” Suddenly, the two of them were racing out of the cafeteria, through the main common room, and into a side hallway that Keith has never noticed before. 

    Lance led him down corridors and stairwells until they finally wound up in a large dimly lit room with a dome-like roof. Constellations spread their way across the ceiling, lighting up as though they were truly part of the night sky. Lance gave him a lopsided smirk, “Welcome to my dome-main.” The pun lost itself in the beauty of the situation. “I come up here to be alone sometimes. We have an actual observatory with better telescopes and things in a newer branch of the school, this one is just kind of here for storage really. It almost feels lonely, really, like it was thrown to the side and forgotten.” They climbed the stairs up to the telescope and gently sat beside it; as to not disturb the ancient piece of technology. A thick layer of dust coated nearly every surface. Footprints tracked through it reminding him of prints marching through freshly settled snow. He glanced over to where Lance sat, his head tilted up to look at the false sky above them. 

    “Does the telescope work?”

    Lance shattered out of his daydream, eyes falling back down to Earth along with a bizarre expression. “What?”

    “The telescope, your grandfather had one when we were kids. Showed me thousands of stars, not that I knew what he was talking about. Does the one here work?”

His expression softened slightly at the mention of Lance, voice tender. “No, it doesn’t. Too covered in dust to do much and I’m not sure how to clean it off without scratching the lens.” He laid back, his blue eyes drifted around the room before focusing on Keith’s. “What was he like when you were kids?” Startled by the raw sincerity of the question, Keith couldn’t help but gaze at Lance in awe.

    “He was, well, an asshole. A womanizer. He constantly flirted with everything that breathed. He was a dreamer, hell his dreams were so big that we all thought he was going to have a rude awakening when he got older. Obviously, that didn’t happen, though.” His voice was low, a chuckle drawing out as he thought about the young Lance, excited about space, stars, and the great beyond. Constantly babbling about the story of each and every constellation. Wild brown hair tumbled out beneath a baseball cap, buck-toothed grin full of hope. “He was always grinning, the kind where you  _ knew  _ he had something wicked planned. He wasn’t actually that much of an asshole, he was just infuriating. He was incredibly sensitive, he cried almost instantly when someone lectured him. And he loved everyone. He wanted nothing more than to protect his friends and family from any and all harm. He was like a compact sun, constantly spreading warmth everywhere he went.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Lance placed an arm across his eyes, shielding them from his view. “A lot like you, really. But much rougher around the edges, it was like he constantly wanted to please everyone and held little to no value for his own well-being.” 

    Lance sniffled softly, teeth grinding into his lip. “I wish I could have known him back then.” His voice was shaky, tender enough that Keith was afraid to push too far, but curiosity won out over caution.

    “You wish? What is he like now, Lance?” His only response was the sound of Lance’s quiet breathing. It was so easy to talk about the past with Lance, but the present was a scene that neither wanted to look at. The future was even shakier, a dimly lit hole at the end of a long, winding tunnel. “Hey, Lance, have you ever been to the lake?”

    “The one in the woods? Yeah, why?”

    “That was our special place. Do you want to visit there with me sometime this week?”

    Lance uncovered his face, dreary expression crumbling like dried mud off of leather boots. Beneath it was an enthusiastic smile. “Why not go right now?”

    “You have class, actually you’re missing class right now, aren’t you?” He sighed, Lance’s protests fading quickly as he persevered, ”I have to go back to the hospital, as sad as that is to say. If I stay out of commission for too long, Dr. Alfor and Coran will have my hide. And that’s not even including what kind of crime Allura would commit against me for getting her in trouble with her father.”

    “Yeah, okay, Miracle Boy. Let’s go to the lake in a few days.”

 

**-**

  
  


    Despite the earful he received from Allura upon arriving at the front gate, he couldn’t help but feel as though the entire situation was completely worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked that!   
> Keith and Lance are heading back to the lake. We're getting to the real meaty chapters, especially the next one which is double this length and really delves into the Old Lance/New Lance situation as well as Keith's emotions regarding how he truly feels about the situation.   
> I asked how many chapters you guys wanted in a Twitter poll, I was originally planning for about 11, but because of responses I think it's going to fall more into the 13-17 range, not sure where yet. I already have a second Klance fic in the works but for now this one is my pride and joy and I will carry it as long as I can keep the story in tune with the emotions I want to portray. 
> 
> Check me out on:
> 
> Tumblr: KyojinOuji.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: Twitter.com/kyojinouji (I post updates constantly regarding chapters as well as little spoilers and behind the scenes moments.)
> 
> Next update will be Wednesday or Thursday at 9:00pmEST.


	7. Alone and Sublime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry this is late! For those who don't know, I was a little bit ill. I've had a chronic heart issue since I was a kid and it decided to kick my ass for a few days. This chapter is really really really a filler. I mean it was bound to happen, but I was going to include it in the next chapter. However, since I'm heading back to school tomorrow updates may be a little slower for a while. I hope this one will suffice for a few days while I finish up chapter 8, which is one of the BIG chapters. Enjoy!

>  
> 
> _“This is a spilling of the heart,_   
>  _With no intent to fall apart._   
>  _I don't feel like I'm even here._   
>  _You may just watch me disappear._   
>  _I wonder, did they make me right?_   
>  _Aren't I supposed to wanna fight for love?_   
>  _And life? Everything that people say is right?_   
>  _Am I so wrong to cry only when there's something in my eye?_ _  
>  _ Am I to die alone and sublime?”
> 
> **Mother Mother** _\- Alone and Sublime_
> 
>   
> 

    “Hurry up!” The voice carried itself through the breeze, gently brushing through his long hair. At first, they ran side by side, but now the other had begun to speed up. The grass was untended and brushed gently along bare ankles. _This is dangerous, walking barefoot in these woods. Who knows what lies just beneath the soil._ His thoughts were fleeting, briefly entering his mind before once again flushing themselves back out as though they didn’t belong there. Of course, they didn’t belong there, today was about being free. There was no need to tie himself down anymore, especially not with something as petty as thoughts. However, a single thought gnawed at the back of his mind, vying for his attention. It was irritating, like an itch that needed to be scratched but was just beneath the skin; impossible to attend to.

    “Hurry up, *****!” The voice sought after him once more, the figure now was so far ahead that it was only vaguely in sight. The form wavered slightly, coming in and out of focus near the edge of the treeline. It stood still, waiting for the other to close the distance. No matter how close he got he couldn’t truly make out any features, they constantly shifted and warped in front of him. Tall to short, tall to short. Lanky to well built, tan to a slightly more caramel tone. Wildly messy hair to shorter with only a bit of tangled chestnut curl. Cobalt to sapphire.

    “K***h! What are you doing?” The smile didn’t alter. It remained clear as day, stretched in a lopsided smirk that was as infuriating as it was dizzyingly beautiful. The spatter of freckles across their face made almost a static pattern as it folded and bent like liquid, eyebrows pulled into a scowl suddenly, altering the face drastically. The voice that once sounded like a peaceful song now changed to something darker; more malicious. It became garbled, as though a thick tongue now filled the figure’s mouth; mouths. There was no longer a single form, two now stood before him. One stared at him with baffled, cobalt eyes. Longer chestnut hair of wild curls framed his face and a hand was outstretched in his direction.

    It spoke to him, mouth no longer in sync with the words tumbling out of it, “What’s on your mind, lover?” Its head cocked to the side, wearing an expression that he had so longed to see over these last few months. _But that’s not him._ The only thought to break through his trance cracked the form’s cool composure, as though it heard it. “Five years is a long time, lover.” Its voice distorted into a deep gurgle. Suddenly it transcended on him, a cloud of dark smoke. Through the tendrils curling around his eyes, he could see the other figure standing just a ways off. Its sapphire eyes shone bright with tears, gentle wisps of light chestnut hair plastered against its forehead. Shroud in a blue halo, it began to turn its back on him, descending into the lake nearby. He fought against the fog, but it pressed against him with a forceful kiss. The taste of charcoal, mint, pine, and bitter earth, bit into his senses, overpowering his will. Abruptly it threw him to the ground and he wasted no time rushing to where the other figure sank. His body launched itself into the icy water, searching for the fleeting form. As their hands brushed together, he struggled to pull it back to the surface only to watch as it shook its head, pointing to where the water met land. Its mouth opened and emitted a beautiful sound, similar to wind chimes on a sunny day, where it distinctly whispered, “Take your time, Keith.” Before allowing itself to drift deep into the black.

 

**-**

 

    Keith awoke in a cold sweat. It wasn’t the first time, not by a long shot, yet this time, he felt so much grimier. His skin felt clammy and stuck to itself as he shifted beneath the blankets. Pale blue moonlight filtered through the window, striking the small gemstones Hunk had left on the sill. Fractured rainbows shot back; scattering their presence around the room. A little color never hurt anyone, especially while they lay sprawled in a hospital bed after startling themselves out of a deep sleep. Despite people claiming that dreams can be altered, he was beginning to doubt the theory. If he could stop them himself, why hadn’t he? Unless it was his own mind’s form of a cruel joke. In that case, kindly fuck off.

    Pushing himself upright, his hands immediately felt around the small bedside table for his pair of smooth leather gloves. Shiro had given them to him as a gift, claiming that they would help reduce anxiety and stress levels. The leather was worn in certain places; cosmetic wear after becoming fabric worry stones. He slipped them onto his hands gently, fingers gliding through the open-ended finger slots with ease. A sigh of relaxation escaping his open lips. Shiro knew his struggles, he knew the pain and the memories that came pounding back in the dead of night. He knew that it was difficult to manage on his own; that bottling up his fears would prove to cause more harm than good. His palm wrapped around the handle of a drawer, pulling it out just far enough for him to slip his wrist past the opening. His searching grasp brushing lightly against a moleskin notebook, he retrieved his treasure.

    A dream journal. Virtually, nothing more than a diary he kept all of his personal thoughts and dream flashbacks in. Shiro had recommended it as a way to vent everything he kept otherwise bottled up. Fumbling for the ball point pen on his nightstand, he began to write. Though the dream was hardly more than a hazy memory now, he recalled that creatures and their wicked faces. The way they stole and morphed the people dearest to him into something menacing and dark. Images plagued his mind, fighting for dominance against his thoughts. The room suddenly felt devoid of warmth as Lance’s twisting grin came back to his mind, his garbled voice trying to spit his loving pet name back at him with venom. The scorched taste of their shared kiss still burned against his tongue, every part of him wanting nothing more than to just tear it from his mouth. And the Lance of this era, slowly being pulled deeper and deeper into the beloved lake by an unseen force. His final words still ringing in his mind.

    Part of his conscious gnawed at his brain like a starved rodent; carving the idea that the lake was dangerous directly into the flesh. Heart palpitating, palms sweating, pen shaking. It was difficult, painful, to even recall the false memory. It felt as though an omen had been sent to him in a dream by a morbid modern oracle. Once he finished recording the nightmare, he realized that despite his spiked heart rate, sleep pulled at his eyelids. A hand slid to his cellphone, fingers curling around the cool glass. 3:24 AM ignited on the large screen as did a new text message. Lance had messaged him, albeit hours prior, but he still felt guilty for having slept through it. Tapping on the icon, the message lit the screen.

 

**→ Lancelot 11:17PM:** what sandwiches do u eat??

**→ Lancelot 11:23PM:** keith

**→ Lancelot 11:23PM:** buddy

**→ Lancelot 11:24PM:** OLD MAN

**→ Lancelot 11:24PM:** it’s 11:30 r u seriously sleeping dude

**→ Lancelot 11:29PM:** do you need me to puree your sandwich, grandpa?  or do you have dental implants that you can chew food with

**→ Lancelot 11:46PM:** you’re getting pb &j bc hunks asleep now u suuuuuuck

← **Keith 3:26AM:** I would have been awake if someone didn’t insist on video calling me until 4AM yesterday.

**→ Lancelot 3:27AM:** dude im tryign ot sleep wtf

← **Keith 3:28AM:** HYPOCRITE.

**→ Lancelot 3:28AM:** huuuushhh sleep tme

 

    Groaning, he tossed his phone haphazardly onto the pillow, watching as it bounced off and landed directly onto the floor. With a high pitched squeak, Keith scrambled after it. A quiet prayer filled the space as he gripped the phone and gently turned it over in his hand. The screen remained stunningly in one piece and he released the breath that had hitched in the back of his throat. Dangling off of the bed with the blood rushing to his head somehow made his more observant. Underneath the edge of the cot lay a discarded sheet of paper, folded up in a square as though it had been left there for someone to find as part of a secret mission. It was a massive stretch but soon he found the paper settled gently in the palm of his hand. It was similar to the notes he had received from both young Lance and his grandfather, the ones that had been tucked away in the pond boats. However, this one appeared to have fallen out of the bin when it took a tumble. Unfolding it immediately drew curiosity as the scrawl arching across it was blatantly written by a female. Letters curled and swirled around each other in a graceful dance, like the ivy wrapping its way around Katie Holt’s statue.

_Marcie McClain-Rilke._

_5774 Brandywine Street_

_Thibodaux, LA 70301_

 

Keith sat in stunned silence for a brief few minutes, mind whirring through the note he had discovered. It had obviously been left by the youngest McClain child. However, she had only provided him with an address, one states away. The information was not much to go off of neither was the reasoning as to why he had been given it. Lance had never mentioned his great-aunt Marcie, was she even still living? And how old was this note, to begin with? He did the first thing that came to mind.

     His hands moved on their own accord, thumbing the pen as he scribbled an extensive message onto the pages of his notebook. It was only a test, a theory he wanted to prove correct. When he finished his scrawl, he tore the sheet out of the booklet. His heart raced at the thought of potentially reconnecting with his dear friend from the past, her bright smile sparkled like the stars in his mind. His eyes glued themselves shut once more, excitement buzzing deep beneath his ribs.

 

**-**

 

Allura never held back during morning rehabilitation therapy. She pushed him to do ‘the best he was capable of’.

    “What is that supposed to be, Keith? The level of this workout is fit for a child with two broken legs! Lift yourself, pull from your core. Stop thinking so much!” Her voice was shrill, slicing the air with shards of sharp glass. Sweat beaded on his forehead, running down the sides of his face and back. It was impossible to work much harder. This was what he could manage, however, even his best was not good enough. He needed to be flawless. Allura and his mind tag-teamed against him, squawking heinous comments in an effort to raise his morale. And it seemed to be working. His heart pulsed harder, sweat dripped from the longer pieces of his hair faster. And then he was on the ground, chilled linoleum pressing through the thin material covering his back. Allura scrambled over, form looming above him and aqua eyes wide.

    “I said to push yourself not render your body completely useless.” He huffed, chest moving frantically to stay in tune with his erratic breathing. She pressed a cool towel against his forehead. Everything hurt, soreness was guaranteed to follow him into the morning. “I know you’re excited to go out with Lance this afternoon, but you’ll be of no use to him if you can hardly move.” Before he could retort, her father and his partner made their way into the small rehabilitation center. The space seemed to glow, their happiness radiating every crevice in the room. Her father, Alfor, was surrounded by a brilliant cyan fog. He was a born leader, full of reassuring light and a skill with communication. Everything about both him and his daughter was balanced, calming, and absolutely family-oriented. The two of them could, and would, singlehandedly initiate world peace, end world hunger, and adopt every orphaned child and animal in existence. However, they only ran a successful hospital, where the saved lives on the daily.

    Coran, on the other hand, was shrouded in a deep, muddied blue. His personality was exuberant and often laughable. He originally had struck Keith as the kind of person who would leave behind everything they claimed to hold dear to move onto something bigger and better if threat seemed imminent. He grew to learn that his assumptions were far off base. Coran would willingly sacrifice anything and everything for Alfor and Allura. Allura was his daughter, while not biologically, he had assumed the role of a parent quickly after the death of her mother. She latched onto him immediately, his loving embrace was where she felt most at home. His aura was purely due to his fears of the unknown, the future, not due to anything mysterious or malicious as Keith had once feared.

    Noticing Keith’s position, the duo scurried in their direction. Alfor’s white hair hung limply against his shoulders, soft blue eyes creased with worry. Brows furrowed, his gaze fled between Allura and Keith quickly. “Allura, what happened here?”

    Under scrutiny by anyone else, she would have fought back with ironclad resolve. Towards her elderly father, however, she was much more delicate. Her voiced brushed silken lace patterns along the air. “Our prodigy is a bit of a problematic patient, daddy.”

    Alfor fought back a chuckle as Coran intercepted the conversation swiftly, like a bird plucking a fish from just below the surface of an ocean. “Is it our prodigy, princess,” He questioned, voice playfully bouncing off the walls, “Or you who inhabits the problematic air?” She gazed at him, her attempt to respond floundering fantastically.

    “Why, I never.” Alfor’s resolve crumbled in a spectacular fashion. A second later the room was full of deep, bellowing laughter, his tan skin wrinkled along the corners of his eyes. A jolly man, one who played Santa Claus during the holiday season. When children asked how he had developed such a rich skin tone while living in the North Pole his response was always, “Now children, where do you think Santa goes during summer vacation? Everyone needs a break once in awhile!”

    Coran tapped his foot against the ground repetitively. His Australian accent came through thickly, “Dear, shouldn't we give them the good news?” Alfor nodded and beamed in Keith’s direction suddenly. Coran pressed a small envelope into his open palms. It was addressed to him, the back sealed with an expensive looking wax seal stamped with the same five symbols he had seen at the Garrison. Dread reared its ugly head deep in his chest.

    “I don't understand?” _Was he banned from returning to the Garrison? Was Lance in trouble, is that why he hadn’t responded to his texts?_ But no, mail didn't travel that quickly. Especially not if it was an emergency. And Lance was probably still sleeping, as it was only 8:13AM on a Saturday.

    “Read it, my dear boy.” Alfor’s voice gentle pushed at him. Shoving the anxiety back down into his chest, his fingers worked at the edge of the seal. It lifted up easily and the envelope beneath it came free. Inside sat a thin piece of cardstock, embossed in gold bordering. The words blurred together as he scanned through them in a rush.

 

_Dear Keith Kogane…accepted…Galaxy Garrison…special circumstances…Lance McClain...See You Soon…_

 

Eyes flying back to meet the other’s expectant expressions, he stared on in wonder. “I’m going to the Garrison? Why? How, haven't classes already started?” Alfor cut his babbling short, waving off his questions with ease.

    “This was already planned from the start. You were going to start next year however we believe that it would be best to keep you in the same year as those you’ve grown attached to. You will have plenty of classes together, to assure your comfort, but you will also have a separate regimen to follow. You are quite behind the others already.”

    “Does Lance know?”

    “Why yes, of course,” He paused, as though he was considering his next word choice thoroughly. “He’s primarily the reason we were able to get you in under such short notice. Quite a persistent one, he is. Never left the headmaster alone for a minute after we brought up the idea.”

   His heart hammered aggressively beneath his ribs, pounding so hard he worried that it might burst. He felt like Searchlight in _Stone Fox,_ it was as though the finish line was just in view and his heart was prepared to give out just before they crossed it. “Lance did this?”

    “Well, not all on his own. We all fought for you. You deserve a chance to become your own person, Keith. We don't want to hold you back from turning our time, this time, into your own. You belong here.” Coran smiled softly, age gracing his features. A voice of reason coated in the skin of the wise men before him. Allura fell against him, arms wrapping him in a tender embrace. He would take hold of his future. With no disease left to wrangle his aspirations into the dirt, he knew that it was possible to finally mold the clay he had been given into something greater than himself like those before him. Like Lance, Pidge, Matt, and Shiro. This was not his time, but then all at once, it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, I'm super sorry about being gone for a few days. The next update will DEFINITELY be a big Klance one. But as I said, with school starting I may only be able to get one or two out a week. Bear with me, I have a few things planned. Once Return to Sender wraps up, I already have a second fic planned out and ready to be written.  
> I love you guys a ton! 
> 
> Find me on:  
> Tumblr- KyojinOuji.tumblr.com  
> Twitter- Twitter.com/kyojinouji
> 
> Also thank you to everyone who has been reading this far and to those who sent me get well messages! I really appreciate it. <3
> 
> Next Update: Wednesday 9:00PM (hopefully!!!)


	8. Your Ex-Lover is Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week, school is kicking my ass already, and I walk to the park every day after school to work on drawings and write this because I get out a class period earlier than everyone else. I'm having so much fun writing this even if my updates are only happening once or twice a week lately.

**_“_ ** _God that was strange to see you again_

_Introduced by a friend of a friend_

_Smiled and said "Yes I think we've met before"_

_In that instant, it started to pour,_

_Captured a taxi despite all the rain_

_We drove in silence across Pont Champlain_

_And all of the time you thought I was sad_

_I was trying to remember your name_

_It's nothing but time and a face that you lose_

_I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose_

_I'll write you a postcard_

_I'll send you the news_

_From a house down the road from real love._ **_”_ **

**Stars** _\- Your Ex-Lover is Dead_

  


_The air smelled of salt, clean and fresh. It felt humid and sticky, ironing skin against the tight press of material. Every movement caused a slight tug and pull of flesh detaching itself from crevices that are best left unnamed. However, it didn't feel unpleasant. Instead, the stick and pluck was exciting, a reminder that they had begun the dive into the summer of their eighth year. School had just let out and they had parted with their friends only hours before. Now, they were free to explore the nearby woodland until it grew to be dark, as their mothers would delve into a panic if they showed up too far past the setting sun._

_Lance stumbled out far ahead of him, his wild head of hair bobbing just above the tall weeds. “It smells like Haggar’s monster hole!” He had yelled before charging further away from their usual trail. Keith panicked slightly behind him, irritated that his friend was so reckless. Was he unaware of the possible critters lying in wait? Or worse...poison ivy?_

_“It’s called a koi pond, you doof!” His voice had come out much sharper than he intended, but there was no taking it back now. Not with Lance almost out of sight. Keith followed him, insisting that he should be the one in the lead._

_The breeze carried the scent of crisp minerals towards them, tangling with the summer heat. Firm soil grew softer, not quite reaching the consistency of mud. Lance stood just beyond the edge of the trees, gravely silent. Before Keith could question him, he was running towards the center of the clearing they had landed in. In the direct middle sat a large body of water. Light hit the surface sending chills down his spine as he admired the glittering majesty before him. Lance kneeled at the edge; knees and knickers already stained with rusty mud. His eyes filled with wonder; brilliantly sparkling like flakes in an overturned snow globe._

_“Keither!! Come see! It’s a big water hole!” A sigh escaped his slightly parted lips._

_“It’s not a water hole, you palooka.” His arms folded across his chest, blocking it from view. “It’s a big pond. A lake.”_

_Lance glared back at him, mouth drawn into a perfectly delicate pout. “Don’t call me a palooka, you moll.” Keith’s eyes grew wide, shocked at Lance’s sudden vocabulary advancement._

_“I don't think you're using that word right.” In a show of immaturity, Lance stuck his tongue out. Idiot. The soft earth squished slightly beneath his feet as he made his way over to where Lance sat. Cattails and cordgrass stood as sentries sporadically around the lake and Keith fought to see over them. Lance had removed his shoes, rolled up his slacks, and was now standing just off the beach and in the water. A shiver ran down Keith’s spine. Although the water ran crystal clear, the idea of standing in unknown waters so willingly was grotesque. Who knew what fish and parasites dwelled beneath the surface?_

_A wall of water splashed against him, coating the front of his body. Shrieking, he tried to stand up quickly and move away only to have the mud suck him deeper into it. The suction threw off his balance, sending him face first into the lake. Even beneath the water, he could hear Lance’s twisted cackles. A wicked idea spread through his mind, dragging him in Lance’s direction. Gripping one tan ankle, he gave a tug. Lance immediately was sent plummeting into the depths beneath him. The two shot from the water, already latching onto the other. Their bodies tumbled across the beach. Claws dug at throats, screeches echoed through the clearing, eyes shut tight in fear of possible damage. Suddenly, they collided with a deep thicket of cockleburs._

_Keith was the first to react, yelping in horror as his long hair caught wickedly with the sticky plant. The burs tangled in his hair, small hooks twisting this way and that to ensure their impossible removal. Lance didn't seem as affected, given his short hair, however, he too began to scream. As quiet began to settle over them once more, Lance turned to stare at the mess Keith had become._

_“You look like you got into a fight with Bigfoot and lost.” His bucktoothed grin was enough to make Keith punch his arm, guaranteeing a bruise in the following days._

_“You look like Nessie had you for lunch, but spit realized how bitter you are and spit you back out.”_

_“Oh yeah? Well, you look like Nosferatu!”_

_Keith gasped loudly, hands whacking against his friend’s chest in rapid succession. “Take. That. Back!” The two fell into a brief silence before shattering it with high-pitched giggles._

_“Let’s come back here. It can be our secret place.”_

_“Alright. It’ll be our hideout.”_

_Their way back to the neighborhood was full of laughter and bizarre plots regarding the renovation of their personal lake. Their own planet, unbeknownst to the rest of the world. As the sun began to fall behind the trees they shot off in a run, fearful their mothers would reprimand them for being out past curfew. Burs forgotten until they were both forced to sit in their separate homes and allow their mothers to lecture them while picking the small seedlings from their hair. Days later, they were still finding small bits tangled thoroughly. But none of it mattered. Because they were children, they had their own secret base, and they didn’t have a care in the world._

 

**_-_ **

 

    Autumn air bit into his bones, forcing itself through his light windbreaker and wooly scarf. The branches were beginning to trade their green leaves for vibrant orange, red, and rusted hues. Chlorophyll depleted for the year, a sight for tired eyes. A reminder that beauty still existed in the world despite the dangerous lifestyle he had returned to. News anchors flashed across the television with Breaking News frequently, announcing murders, mutiny, and terrorism. He hadn’t been around to witness the beginning of the world’s descent into madness. He only knew of the attacks recorded in newspaper ads that had been stuffed into his bin. Things like Pearl Harbor, 9/11, the Vietnamese War, the invention of microwavable pizza bites. All attacks on humanity, but he knew not of what had happened in other countries as his connections were in America. The information he longed to gain, the knowledge of the world that had continued to spin without him.

     A bicyclist sped past him, battling for ownership of the sidewalk. Startled out of his thoughts, Keith launched himself to the side. The man simply cast a rude gesture in his direction and continued down the path. _I may have been out of commission for seventy-five years, asshole,_ His internal monologue ran rancid. _But I know for damn sure you’re supposed to bike on the road._

Soft leather gloves drove his attention towards them, fingers running delicate circles along the worn spaces of his palm. The habit had presented itself only recently, soon after he had learned of Lance’s fate. His chest would fill with dark clouds and pressure, a painful thunderstorm ravaging a path straight through him; anxiety gripped the edges of his senses. His gaze drifted along the roadside, taking in the various cornfields and pastures. While the small town had changed over time, it was still the one he grew up in. Small dairyettes and diners turned into full scale restaurants, expanded superstores replaced dinky grocers, movie theaters popped up along strips of shopping centers. It was as though he had stumbled into the Twilight Zone during a morning walk. Even so, the town was still his.

    He could remember running down these very streets, Lance at is side. Tattered kites tumbled behind them, struggling to pick up a wind gust strong enough to lift them off the ground. Matt stumbled after them; Pidge slung across his back. The siblings usually sharp faces filled out with childish pudge. Pidge had insisted that she invented a new tool. She had tied her own kite to the back of a small green bike and sped down the road ahead of them. The kite went airborne for a few moments before plummeting back to Earth, wheels catching the thin string. Pidge careened off the road and into a nearby cabbage patch, thoroughly dicing up her hands and knees on the rocky road beneath them. Shiro straggled further behind them, the older boy insisting that he could push the damaged bike as well as carry the kite. That it was no problem to him. Even as the others insisted that they take charge of either object, he protested against them. It was their own little family, each member full of their own quirks and passions.

    The roads led through the labyrinth of Keith’s heart. His brain was a jumbled mess of the before’s and the now’s. While he was able to fall into the modern age with such grace, it did not prevent him from drifting between the time frames. Some days he woke up, still trapped in the 1940’s. His mind scrambled to process why and how he got here, who he was, and when the war ended. If the war _truly_ ended, he wasn't sure. Things were kept from his constantly, shock proofing him as best as they could. He thought it wrong and disturbing that the rest of the world was allowed information at their fingertips but he had to request it.

    Boot covered toes encountered hard soil, just beginning to freeze in the cool autumn air. Behind the tall corn stalks, a familiar treeline spread out in front of him. His heart rate began to quickly, no longer pacing itself in anticipation. Just along the border stood a tall figure, caramel hair topped with a gray stocking cap. Hanging over one arm was a small cooler, no doubt filled to the brim with sandwiches, as well as a folded fleece blanket. Lance stuck to his idea of picnicking along the bank of the lake, despite Keith’s protests against the cold weather that had suddenly set in around them. It was only the middle of fall but the air had cooled off once October hit.

    The walk to the clearing seemed to draw itself out, peaceful silence enveloping them in a blissful embrace. Quiet came easy around Lance. Whirring thoughts slowed leaving his mind clear and concise. Lance hummed softly beside him, their interlocking hands swinging to his imaginary beat. His voice was like warm honey poured over fresh toast, coating every bit of Keith’s mind in a fuzz. Instead of the sound of thoughts bouncing from wall to wall of his skull, words were hard to piece together. Silence, he had learned, was easier than speaking. Lance had taken to drawing words on the palm of his hand as to not interrupt his thoughts. To him, it was both a game and an assistive push. He wanted nothing more than for Keith to fully trust him; to know that he truly understood.

    Keith had a difficult past. One expanding far beyond Lance’s realm of comprehension. He had learned not to push; Keith learned likewise. Lance’s grandfather was a touchy subject for both of them. One knew of his childhood and the other knew of his adulthood. Words were to difficult to grasp; to form into phrases and explain the density of the situation. There was no way to explain the pain they each felt. Keith had watched Lance build himself up, weave dreams out of stardust and comet tails. Lance had watched his grandfather deteriorate, burn off the extra fuel he had left in his tank. It started slow, the flames mere embers as he forgot simple things. Occasionally misplacing tools and trinkets, forgetting the purpose behind entering a room, and forgetting to water the flowers. However, the flames began to expand. The edges of his mind began to smolder under the intense heat of the disease. The doors would remain unlocked or hanging wide open. The gas-powered stove still emitting propane directly into the air. Bills left unpaid. Names forgotten. And soon, his mind was engulfed by the fiery blaze. He no longer knew his children. Nyma was no more than a stranger who had passed away years earlier. Neighbors would call Lance’s father, Alfonso, in a panic frequently. Lance was in the street again, they had to pull him off the road. He showed up on their doorstep, asking why they wouldn’t let him back into his own home. He once disappeared for nearly twelve hours. Finally, they found him sitting alongside the lake; small tattered blue pond boat drifting aimlessly in search of its mate. And that was the final straw, he was immediately sent to stay at a nursing home close to the family. Lance hadn’t seen his grandfather since Easter, not by choice of course. It was better this way. Better for him to not have any connections.

    Lance would never tell Keith any of this. He would learn when the time was right; or never. One thing his grandfather never forgot was his messy-haired fashion-loving partner. He constantly begged and pleaded to see him, to touch him once more, to hold him in his arms. And although Keith was not ready to see him yet, Lance worried that there wouldn’t be much more time. His grandfather was actually ninety-five in body and mind; unlike Keith. While Keith had time to recuperate, Lance was boarding on the edge of disintegrating under the touch of time. Who truly knew when the hour glass would spit its last grain of sand.

    The two of them padded carefully along the soft underbrush. Paths that were once merely run down by Lance and Keith’s frequent trips now appeared well maintained. A fear froze Keith’s veins, suddenly he found himself irritated. Someone had invaded his sacred place, who was to say whether or not it was still treated with the same respect they once held for it. Seemingly reading his mind, Lance pivoted to face him. His steady gaze locking onto Keith’s own.

    “He bought it, you know.”

    “Who?”

    “My grandad. He said that he couldn't trust another soul to walk these paths if they didn't know the story behind it.” _Of course he did_. Lance was always the territorial type. Whenever girls tried their hardest to secretly flirt with Keith, Lance would gather some kind of an inkling and immediately interfere. However, in his own way, Keith was the same. His outbursts were often more emotional, filled to the brim with a tangled medley of anger, passion, and a slight tinge of betrayal. Why did Lance not brush them away? Why did he seem to convince them that their advances were beneficial? Why was his stupid lopsided grin so incredibly dizzying? Why couldn't he decide if he’d rather bloom a large bruise right on the sharp edge of his jawline or push his body into a wall and plant a firm kiss on his plump lips? It would be a lie to say that either scenario had never occurred. In fact, both happened around the same time quite frequently.

    Spindly branches wound their way around each other, every one its own sacred dance. The trees were so vivid, so fiery red and sunset orange that it was difficult not to stare. These woods hadn't changed, not in 75 years. Upon asking Lance about the lake, he had been afraid. Afraid to hear whether the lake or the woodland still stood or if it had been renovated into something extravagant. But now his mind settled into solid reassurance. What more did he expect from his gentle and playful grandfather? The man who cherished simple school notes and hand knit scarves just because they had been touched by Keith. Of course, he would never let go of such a landmark. He knew that although Keith was no longer present, his energy still lingered in the treetops. His voice had still echoed softly through the air. His footprints trapezed through the space with grace. And now Keith stood in a similar position, breath revoked as soon as the familiar scent of minerals entered his senses.

    They stood at the end of a worn path. The effects of fall had taken hold of the clearing. Browns, greens, and reds mingled in the water plants lining the lake; a Rembrandt painting in the works. It felt as though the ground had given way beneath them but rather than falling down and hitting rock bottom Keith simply drifted. As though he was submerged beneath the clear, sparkling water. Waves crashed above him, body suspended in chilled liquid. He didn't notice the press of the cold ground against his knees until Lance kneeled beside him, large hand gently settling against his shoulder blade.

    “You okay?” His gaze was expectant, brows furrowed together in an expression of pure concern.

    “Yeah, I’m fine. Amazed, I guess.” Lance’s frown edged him on, asking for clarification. To him it was purely a lake; a ratty one at that. Of course, he had memories out here, but nothing nearly as monumental as what Keith had.  “It hasn't changed. I expected at least something to change. Maybe for it to be mostly dried up? I don't know really.” He stood, steadying himself by using Lance as a living crutch. His new boots had already begun to collect bits of dried mud and were no longer presentable for his first day at the academy. Some part of him didn't really mind, the shoes were a gift from Allura. The fashion loving side of him, however, screamed obscenities in the back of his mind. “Lunch?”

    Lance grinned at him, eyes traveling the length of his wool wrapped body. “You really don't look like that much of a glutton, you know. What, were you raised in the Great Depression.” While Lance was merely joking, Keith couldn't help but find himself growing offended. _Were the struggles that their families went through while scavenging for food really that simple of a topic?_

His plush pink lips pursed into a plump pout. Gentle voice quipping, “I have seventy-five years worth of eating to do, you know. After Church Casserole wasn't just for after church, it was how we survived.” He couldn't help the way his feet stormed ahead and were suddenly sticking in the thick mud surrounding the lake. He fucked up. And it was bad. His balance was suddenly thrown off course as he tried to pull a boot from the ground. The act only caused his shoe to _pop_ straight off and force him onto his ass into the dirt and water. Rippling waves casually sloshed against his now quite damp rear. A groan tore its way from his throat but instead of choosing to simply call the howling Lance over to help him to his feet he chose to flop onto his back. Muddy water splattered around him, the back of his head and body now thoroughly coated, and one foot still stuck in the grime. His other dangling in the air, a once white sock remained as a final bit of protection against the outside world.

    Lance squeaked incandescently, his hand appearing above Keith’s head. Rather than taking it and pulling himself out of the mess he had created, he gave a sharp tug. Lance tumbled into the water after him; battle cry quickly dying off as he became submerged. The silence was brief as he suddenly shot back out of the water, hands clasping around Keith's neck. The two rolled through the mud, hair growing thick as dirt collected on separate clumps. Keith scooped up a handful and effectively spread it along each of Lance’s freckles like a paste. Lance dug his nails into the Earth and pulled up a large enough clump to push Keith’s hair into a stylish but floppy Mohawk.

    The heat of their bodies pressing against each other became obvious. Lance had one hand tangled in Keith’s long hair. Keith had both arms wrapped around his tan, mud and freckle spattered neck. Their breathing slowed as they realized their compromising position. But it didn't matter. Instead it felt right. The way Lance’s legs tangled with his own. His breath against his cheek. Long eyelashes lowered enough that Keith could hardly make out the sapphire beneath them. The scent of lemongrass and ocean spray. Minerals. He smelled similar to the lake, Keith noticed. Blue and red auras swirled like vortexes, purple nebulas drove the space like personal galaxies. Lance’s head dipped towards his own and he lifted just enough to meet him.

    He didn't know who truly took control. Instead it was as though their lips meshed together on their own will. They gently pressed against each other, afraid to break the other. They moved as though they were both fragile creatures. As though they weren't on top of each other only moments before; prepared to tear into the other and draw blood. Lance tasted sweet, but also in his own way refreshing. Citrus and lingering mint brushed through Keith’s senses. The world seemed to be full of color; vibrant, beautiful hues. When Lance pulled back to breathe, his eyes were glazed over and heavily lidded. Keith imagined that his own face was as flushed, if not more. The splotches along his face were only more emphasized like this. It was cute and Keith couldn't fight back a grin.

     _He had kissed his partner’s grandson._ However, there was no guilt. No remorse. His Lance hadn't even come to mind, not until now. Did Lance feel the same way or was guilt gnawing at him? No, most likely not. He stared back at Keith with a dopey grin, white teeth blazing into his retinas.

    “Well?”

    Keith scoffed, slightly taken aback by Lance’s abrupt question. “What do you mean ‘well’?”

    “Did you like it? Am I not the best kisser you’ve ever smooched? Admit it, I am and you know it.”

    “Lance, don't ask me that. The only other person I’ve ‘ _smooched_ ’ is your grandfather and I’m not sure you want to walk around proclaiming that you're a better kisser than him.”

    “Who knows, my man. My granddaddy scored two of the prettiest babes I’ve ever seen in my life, he had to be pretty good.” His grin was intoxicating and Keith wanted to kiss it right off of his stupid, precious face. So what was stopping him? He elected to press a simple kiss to the corner of Lance’s mouth, not wanting to miss his reaction. He looked almost like a puppy, blue eyes wide and sparkling. Partially dry mud cracked along his skin and hair and the problem at hand became evident. How were they going to remove any of this?

 

**-**

 

    “You can't look!”

    “Dude, I know. We’ve been over this. I’ll face this way and clean up on this side. You’ll stay over there in your little pouty corner and do your own thing. Our clothes should dry in no time with the sun out like this.”

    Saying the water was cold would be an understatement. Every part of Keith’s body was numb and he couldn't help but question why he hasn't noticed it when during their tumbling match. He could only remember how _warm_ Lance was and how fast his heart beat. The taste of him still lingered. The water could boil with the embarrassment that burned along his cheeks. He wondered how Lance actually felt about it. He seemed pleased but it could definitely be an act. Or rather, it would be impossible for Lance to hide something like that. He wore his emotions on his sleeve.

    Lance hummed quietly from his place across the lake, but Keith couldn't even allow himself to steal a glance. After all, Keith was the one that asked for privacy. His hair was now mostly clean, bits of mud still clung in places but it was nothing noticeable. At least, he assumed not. The question of a towel was the main issue at hand now. While they had the large picnic blanket, it could not suffice more than one usage.

    “Lance?”

    “Yeah?’

    “Towels?”

    “Shit.” His tone reflecting that he too disregarded that minor detail before stripping down to his birthday suit and launching himself into the lake. What could they say? Dried mud wasn't the most comfortable when it clung to every part of your body. While their shirts seemed to be drying just fine, their thick denim jeans were part of a different story. The air around them was growing chilly which did little to help the drying process. Instead throwing on damp clothing seemed like the best bet; even if they had to walk the paths back through town looking like two drown rats. Lance’s voice called back once more, “You use the blanket and get dressed first. I’ll stay here until you're done.”

    “No, you go ahead. I still have to get my hair.” Lance made no indication that he intended to respond. Water rippled around them, gently crashing against the small of Keith’s back. It wasn’t until a sultry voice brushed past his ear did he realize that Lance hadn't actually gotten out of the water yet.

    “Do you need help with that?” Keith’s face transcended into crimson territory, blazing a trail across porcelain skin. His own voice had been reduced to stuttering mush. He could hardly utter an ‘okay’ before Lance’s long fingers tangled in his dark hair. He gently scooped water by the handfuls, allowing it to run down Keith’s neck, back, and face. He handled him as though he was as fragile as a piece of hand blown glass; paper thin and shatterable. While the contact was intimate, it was nothing sensual. Instead it was reassuring. He was used to being taken care of, that was for sure, but not by someone who touched him with such tender grace.

    All too soon it was over, Lance backed away and ascended onto the shore without uttering a single word. From the single glance Keith cast over his shoulder all he could see were freckles and constellations, spelling ancient stories across Lance’s shoulder blades. Myths passed down generation after generation. His shoulders were cast in a pinkish glow, ears burning vibrant red. The shallow dip of his spine was enough to send Keith reeling, instantly his body was submerged in the icy water as he threw himself beneath the surface. _Why was he so beautiful?_ He allowed only his eyes to break above level, scoping out the area to check that Lance had at least wrapped the blanket around himself. Instead, he was fully clothed.

    Lance approached the edge of the lake, his eyes averted as he passed the ‘towel’ to Keith. They made quick work of redressing and packing. Lance picked up the abandoned picnic basket and offered him a sandwich, only to notice ants crawling in and out of the plastic wrap at a quickened pace.

    It wasn't meant to be a date. It wasn't a date. It was a chance to visit his Lance, but only in spirit. But he hadn’t thought about Lance much; not more than seven times. However, he chose not to dwell. Things happened so fast, it wasn't his fault for getting carried away in the moment. In the places he knew there should be guilt, he felt devoid of emotion. The weeks, months, he had been back were excruciating up until now yet suddenly he felt empty. He didn't feel free, just empty. Trapped in the cage of his mind, wings fluttering helplessly. And he couldn't help but wonder, was what he had with this Lance real? Or was this all a dream? How had he managed to stumble into such a deep, winding rabbit hole?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around for this one! I hope you guys liked it. I don't want to rush their relationship, trust me. It make seem like it's a little rushed right now but give it a chapter or two and you'll understand, I swear. I've been having a really rough time with family stuff and the death of a dear friend but every time I read you guys' comments I want to cry. You are all so amazing and I'm so happy you are enjoying these dorks as much as I enjoy them. 
> 
> Find me on:  
> Tumblr: Kyojinouji.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: Twitter.com/kyojinouji


	9. White Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this late? Yeah.   
> Is it probably going to be late again? You bet ur tooshie.

_ “Guess it’s been a long time, I don’t even know. _ __   
_ Guess we fell in love when we tried to take it slow. _ _   
_ __ Oh, I can even tell you by the way we touch,

_ There’s a lot of things that are dangerous. _ __   
_ And I just wanna see if I can make it on my own. _ __   
_ All my friends are telling me I’m different from before. _ __   
_ Well, maybe I just need a little space to think; _ _   
_ __ Spend some more time doing my own things.”

**Jhameel** \-  _ White Lie _

 

    The letter’s return wasn’t unexpected. No, instead it was almost a surprise that it hadn’t been sent back earlier. He had been moving off of the little information that had suddenly appeared in note form on the floor of his hospital room. It must have fallen from the bin of files weeks earlier. Taking in the amount of time spent locating it as well as the years that may have passed since it was stashed away in the pile, it made sense that Marcie had moved. And now Keith found himself at an emotional standstill. With their newly emerging relationship and the already heavy air that enclosed their little world when Lance’s grandfather was mentioned, it seemed almost dangerous to ask of Marcie’s fate. She was only six when Keith was set into hibernation, which meant by now she would be eighty. Eighty-one. The thought was startling; most things regarding the past often were. If the illness that had taken control of Lance was hereditary, and he hadn’t been told whether or not it was, there was a possibility the youngest McClain had contracted it as well. But the subject was touchy already; there was no way he could bring it up to Lance. However, in this new world there seemed to be endless possibilities with technology. Who was to say there wasn't an available platform to locate friends and family to reestablish contact.

-

    Schrrrrch. Schrrrrrrrrrch. Schrrrrrch. Pidge refused to lift any of the duffle bags from the cobblestone path, instead the cloth drug painfully. Keith cringed systematically, his heart went out to the canvas. It would be scuffed and worn down in various areas now and was most certainly a great loss. The material was durable, of course, but that didn't mean it had to endure such a beating. His own red and black bag hung limply over his shoulder. Every step made it thump directly against his thigh but it was light enough that it did not alter his pace. The few shirts he owned, a toothbrush, three pairs of pants, a set of sneakers, and his phone and charger. All of his belongings with the exception of the tub of files Lance insisted on carrying. 

    “Let me get that.” 

    “I’m fine; stop babying me.”

    “Babying you? Please, as if you would let me.” The sneer in his voice was obvious.

    “Which is why I’m not letting you,” Keith’s voice was terse as he snatched the crate from the other. He didn't make it far before he was heaving to catch his breath; his body was still far too weak. Lance was already beside him, long fingers wrapping around his forearm. 

    “Stop being stubborn, you idiot. Just because you aren't a resident of the hospital anymore doesn't mean you’re a modern Hercules. You’re no tougher than a kitten.” The brunette had plastered a toothy grin to his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. Keith simply sighed before hefting his duffle higher onto his shoulder and marching toward the academy. Lance’s grip still lingered on his arm and the longer he thought about it the more agitated he became. The two had agreed not to say anything about what had happened at the lake. They chalked it up to pure sentimentality. The heat of the moment. Keith insisted they keep their distance from each other, however, they neglected to take their shared room into account. Flash forward and they stood in the doorway of their dorm. Blue scuttled quickly out of sight as soon as they entered. Her round eyes glinted at them from beneath the bed. 

    Keith hadn't had much experience with animals during his lifetime. As a child, it was too expensive to keep pets outside of chickens. The McClains had owned a small terrier named Speckie but the dog was always partial towards young Marcie and chose to spend most of its time with her rather than the two teenage boys. Despite that, he loved animals. Truly, he had always wanted a cat, or perhaps a bird, but he would never tell Lance that. No, instead he would trust Blue to keep that a secret. After all, they say that cats can stare into your soul. 

    Shaken from his thoughts, Keith began to process the task at hand. Moving into a dorm was much harder than Allura had made it sound. Maybe she just didn't know the extent of the manual labor because Shiro was doing most of the heavy lifting. Or perhaps it was the fact that they were not only moving Keith into the blue dormitory but Allura as well. Everything that wasn’t Keith’s single duffle bag or his bin belonged to her. Despite the academy’s more than accommodating nursing staff Alfor had insisted that she stay in close quarters with her ‘constant health companion’. Neither thought to protest, however, not with Coran standing sentry beside his partner. Despite being much smaller and far goofier than his white-haired companion, Coran was intimidating. Whether it be his wild personality or massive beak, Keith wasn't sure, but the air around him gave off the feeling of ‘if you go against our orders I will make you eat my home cooking even night until you dream of hospital food.’ It was quickly arranged that Allura would be a full-time nurse at the school. Her room wasn’t terribly far away either. She would be staying in the black dormitory, the same hall as Shiro. It was used as the faculty section and every member of the staff received a complimentary luxury suite as thanks for their cooperation. 

    The two of them were sickeningly adorable. Being in their presence was like being drenched in thick pink liquid falsely labeled as bubblegum flavor. They were in the constant honeymoon phase that perfect couples went through. From the window, they had a direct view of the rest of the group stumbling around with Allura’s belongings. It wasn’t so much that she was being lazy, instead, she was in the same boat as Keith. Overbearing man-friends insisted on doing the heavy lifting, however, her’s was in a much more muscular state than his personal lackey. The same lackey who had placed Keith’s bin on the nightstand and immediately flopped face first onto his mattress.

    “Lance? Are you alright?”  His only response was a muffled groan. Gingerly, he padded over to where Lance had crashed. Ground Zero was covered in scattered papers, all ranging from astronomy to creative writing to algebra. “You really didn't have to help us if you were this busy with homework, you know.” The other boy quickly scrambled to his elbows, sapphire gaze steady as it locked onto violet. The small stream of air he let loose mussed at the wild waves brushing his sharp cheekbones. Keith fought the urge to run his fingers through the messy style.

    “Homework can wait. It’s not every day you get a new roommate.”

    “Ah, so you would put this much effort into moving any old fella into your dorm room?”

    “Not quite. Only ‘old fellas’ that talk funny with terrible hair.” Lance grinned back at him with his palm pressed against a freckled cheek. How he could pull off a dreamy lovesick expression with such grace was a silent question that drifted between them.  _ How many guys had he dated? And girls too for that matter? _ Keith had known from the start that Lance was a flirt, and while he truly didn't mind the number, he couldn't help but be concerned that maybe his own experience level wasn’t adequate enough for Lance.  _ Why would he want to be with such a freshman in the dating realm? _ He could have anyone he wanted with those looks.  _ The looks that were so similar to his grandfather’s. _

__ Keith suddenly pushed off of the bed, shaking the thought away. Panic laced dainty patterns with his veins and his heartstrings played a complicated symphony. Was Keith the one who was actually using Lance? He clung to him like a life raft as troubled waves sloshed against them. His emotions were tangled. Lance stared after him as he situated himself between the wall and wardrobe. He carefully pulled his belongings from the duffle bag and set them in front of him; busying himself with the task at hand while trying to avoid contact. Each pile fell into red, black, or grey color schemes. All but the academy uniform that dangled from a hanger inside the wardrobe. Lance had placed a single fabric divider to designate their separate sides of the closet, striking Keith as oddly endearing. He had thought of all the little things. 

    Their room was rather spacious thanks to stacked beds. The floor was still hardwood with a plush rug strewn across the center and the walls were a light blue. Lance had purchased Keith’s bedding; a red, black, and white mosaic style comforter and deep grey flannel sheets. He would probably have to switch out the thick sheets given that his body temperature always seemed to run warm. Lance had placed a red mug on the bedside table. Beside it sat a box of Earl Grey as well as hot chocolate packets. Lance had warned him that their room only had a microwave, coffee maker, and mini fridge, however, Keith had no idea how any of those things worked. Beside the goodies sat snack candies as well as a stack of movies. It was obvious that Lance planned to make Keith’s time at the academy as comfortable as possible. 

    “Hey, I remember these. Momo and Popo always let us play with them when we visited the lake.” Nestled tightly in Lance’s hands was Keith’s old pond boat. Its paint curled around the edges and it was truly worse for ware but none the less it was important. The tension that once pulled the air taught suddenly gave out. Keith moved to sit beside Lance, gloved hands wrapping tenderly around the small object. His fingers moved along a seam in the wood until they hit the knot where the note was stored, offering it to Lance. His face lit up joyfully as he read the chicken scratch scrawl that he had long since forgotten. 

_     Thenk you, grampa K. Grampa L sed you wod like it if we pleyed with thees. It was sooper fun!!! luv, L.E.M. _

_“Holy shit._ I can’t believe these were still in there. I had to have been like ten.” Lance’s eyes were bright and childish. Pride swelled in Keith’s chest, however, he didn’t know the exact reason. To see  Lance this happy was unique. 

    “That’s pretty shitty spelling for a ten-year-old.” 

    “Hey man, it was never my strong suit. I was only ever good at PE.”

    “I’ve been wondering, what does the E stand for?”

    “Eloy. My name is Lance Eloy McClain. It was the name of my other granddad.” Lance spoke softly, as though the name carried more meaning than what he was alluding to. “My turn, where did you guys get these boats anyways? I tried to buy Gramps new ones a few years back and I couldn’t find anything similar.”

    “Lance’s dad made us these; before the war. He was incredible with crafty things, you know. It didn’t matter if it was carpentry or card making. My dad helped us paint them.” 

     “Oh, wow. I never knew that. Gramps only ever said that his dad changed after the war.” He grew quiet, fingers tracing patterns along the paper’s edges. “I met him once. I’m the oldest in my family, my parents wanted to give him a great grandchild before he died. I don’t remember anything about him, I guess. His wife died before the moon landing but I really don’t know the details. Supposedly she had an affair with a well off doctor and his wife found out. She showed up one night, shot my great-grandmother, and then went home and shot the doctor and herself.” 

    “You’re kidding… Mrs. McClain was always so kind. She and my mom were close, best friends even. They’re the reason Lance and I met.”

    “And in a roundabout way, that means they’re the reason we met.”

    “Yeah, I guess so. “ Their conversation drifted to a standstill, both lost in their own thoughts. That is until Hunk barreled through the door. His shoulder length hair was damp and dripped down his vest and onto the floor. His honey brown eyes were wide and filled to the brim with pure terror and he slammed the door shut after an equally soaked Pidge tumbled in behind him. The two flailed wildly, their voices mixing in a cacophonous song. 

    “It’s Sendak!”

    “He’s hazing-”

    “Water balloons-”

    “Keith needs to-”

    Irritated at the interruption of peace, Keith found his voice rising above the others.”Who the  _ hell  _ is Sendak?” Before the other three could respond, the dorm’s door was slammed open. A broad-shouldered man stood before them and in each hand was a brightly colored water balloon. Two other males stood on either side of him, their arms occupied by large vats full of other liquid filled bombs. The one who Keith assumed was Sendak was tall, big, and terrifyingly burly. His spiked hair should have made him all the more intimidating. However, Keith wasn’t afraid in the slightest. No instead anger coursed through his veins. Maybe it was because of the way Lance stopped breathing. Or the way his body turned rigid. Or maybe it was just the fact that suddenly another interruption had taken place. But no matter the cause, Keith was furious. Blue had wrapped herself around Keith’s ankles in search of solace and he felt terrible went he made to stand. Even so, he wasn’t going to put up with some asshole barging into  _ his  _ dorm on the first day. Hell no. 

    “Who the  _ fuck  _ are you?” In lieu of a response, Keith found himself suddenly pummeled with balloons. A screech of rage tore itself free from his throat and he launched himself across the room; directly into Sendak’s chest. The large sodden child merely knocked over the larger, less damp one but the room was sent into a panic. Hunk was suddenly on one of the other men and the entire tub of water balloons deposited directly over the intruder’s head. Pidge went for the other’s legs but missed entirely. Lance sat far from the discourse, his face pale. The sight set something deep within Keith aflame. Fiery displeasure began to burn in his chest and he felt a strong desire to absolutely eradicate the people who made his friend look so helpless. However, as his hands tangled in Sendak’s hair, a voice called out to them from down the hall.

    “Everyone, knock it off! You are college students, not a bunch of toddlers. I don’t know what happened here, but I do know that if it doesn’t come to an end I will personally issue the order to remove you from the Garrison.” Shiro stood side by side with Allura, his voice booming through the chaos. It took four powerful strides before he stood beside the pile of bloodthirsty paladins. The strong grip of his prosthetic latched around the collar Sendak’s polo, lifting him from the ground as though he weighed no more than a kitten. “And I know for certain that you, Sendak Yurak, are the root of all the problems that transpired here.” Sendak’s fist swung around and collided against the firm flesh of Shiro’s cheek, however, it didn’t little to influence the situation. Allura’s pointed heels made their way to Keith’s place on the floor, but she did not help him to his feet. Instead, she burrowed a heel deep into the chest of one of Sendak’s minions. 

    “I’m going to speak to the three of you unanimously because I know for a fact that my friends would never start any form of dramatic scene without a damn good reason. If you decide you want to toy with any of the students at this academy without a regard for their physical or mental well-being, I will  be the first to hear about it. And I will go to any length to have your admission to this school revoked.” The chill in her tone made the group freeze. If her voice was an actual temperature she would have started a vicious blizzard. In that moment, Keith was thankful to have his constant health companion on his side. Allura removed her heel from the boy’s chest and immediately spun on Keith, eyes filled with motherly concern. Shiro was already halfway down the hall, his loud voice causing a bigger scene than the fight itself. It would have drawn less attention if he has simply tugged Sendak and his group by their ears and strung them by their toenails from the balcony railing. 

    “Keith, what happened here? Is everyone alright?” He inspected his surroundings carefully. Everyone seemed to be fine. Pidge has taken to leaning against the wall, her chest puffed out proudly as passing students stared on in bewilderment. Hunk loitered beside her babbling about the number of fights he had been in prior to this. Zero. What kind of angel was he anyways? A baker with a strong sense of friendship, was incredibly hilarious, and was kinder than anyone Keith had ever met in his entire life. He may have been the perfect boyfriend if Keith wasn’t already so conflicted. 

    “Yeah, I think we’re okay Allura. My best guess is that those guys run this school and they aren’t too keen on having new students step into their territory.” Keith directed his next question towards Pidge. “How did those bozos even get into the Garrison?” 

    She shrugged in his direction, “I don’t really know. I can really only chalk it up to money and power. The world runs on a hierarchy and they’re pretty much at the top of it. I mean, probably just below someone like Allura. No offense.”

    “None taken.”

    “Sendak, for example, is a military brat. His dad is some big wig, not really sure what exactly. He transferred in last year and immediately afterward it became one long-running case of ‘great googly moogly it’s all gone to shit.’”

    “Yeah! And his friends Thace and Haxus are just as bad. Well, Haxus more so than Thace, I guess. Haxus’s dad owns a ton of local hotels; he practically thinks that they run the town. But, I don’t know anything about Thace. That guy really just follows all of Sendak’s orders.” Hunk’s tone was scattered, bouncing like a big red kickball across a playground. His thoughts were obviously elsewhere. 

   “But the main issue at hand is Sendak. He’s not going to leave you alone now, you know. It’s not even because you’re new. Now he knows for sure that you are rooming with Lance.”

   Keith couldn’t help but grow puzzled.  _ What did Lance have to do with any of this? _ He thought back to his expression in the room. The way his body turned rigid. How he seemed to close everything off immediately. Even the way Blue reacted. Something was definitely out of place. “Do Lance and Sendak have a history?” Although his voice was hushed, the others recoiled as though he had slapped them. Pidge and Hunk shared a look before shaking their heads simultaneously. It was such a  _ we’re-not-entitled-to-talk-about-it-so-you-ask-him-yourself  _ gesture that he found himself laughing out loud. 

 

**-**

 

    Inside the room, they all took to different activities. Allura spun around the room, cleaning things she found unsatisfactory. Pidge and Hunk willingly tried to coax Blue out from beneath the bed. Lance and Keith argued over who would get the bottom bunk. The group was a team; a family. They would risk anything and everything for each other, even though they had only come together less than a month ago. It was like a gravitational pull had somehow thrust the six of them into the same room and locked the door. 

    “Dude, just take the top bunk! It’s not even that far from the ground. There’re railings so you won’t fall.”

    “Excuse me, I’m still recuperating from a seventy-five-year long hibernation! I need to be low to the ground. We’re humans, our feet are meant to be on the ground anyways.”

    “I’m a human too!”

    “That’s doubtful, really.” Keith sighed heavily, arguing was exhausting but he had every intention to win. “You only want the bottom bunk because you don’t want to lose your princess bed.”

    Hunk’s ears might as well have perked up. “Lance has a princess bed?” 

    “No-”

    “Yes, he does. See he hangs the covers off of the top bunk’s railing and makes a precious little canopy bed for himself. It’s adorab-” His explanation was cut short as Lance’s hand slapped over his mouth. Salt mingled with his lips; every crack along the way lit up like white fire in protest. He squirmed beneath the weight of the other’s arm; struggling to free himself from the sudden captor. 

    “I’m not a princess. I am the strongest king in the galaxy. No, better yet, I’m the Queen of the Universe. Call me Voltron, peasants.” No one truly knew how to respond. Thankfully, Shiro made his way through the door and instantly shot back, “Do you ever stop talking, Lancelot? Sometimes I feel like you only do it because you love the sound of your own voice.”

    Shiro slid an arm around Allura’s slender shoulders and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Sickening. She melted into him like lava against cool ground and all the energy in the room dulled to a smooth hum. It was a comfortable and warm silence similar to the feeling that the audience has at the end of a romantic teen comedy. When the guy gets the girl and everything ends in a fuzzy show of affection. Lance pressed into Keith’s side gently as if he was simply reminding him of his presence.  _ Did he think he was that easy to ignore?  _ But, they had made a deal. There would be no public shows of affection. Keith’s elbow prodded against Lance’s chest once; sharp and quick. He jerked away and huffed in aggravation. 

    “Everything okay, you guys?” Pidge’s questioning gaze pinned them both in place. She was intelligent and if she caught a whiff of the dramatics happening between them, they would never be able to live it down. 

    “Yeah,” Their response was instantaneous and to avoid further suspicion they took to doing opposite tasks. Lance flopped onto the bottom bunk while Keith snatched Blue away from Hunk and scrambled up the ladder. Which was, of course, all the more suspicious.

  
  


**-**

 

    By the time dinner finally rolled around, the group had taken to watching Youtube videos and taking naps. Keith was rudely awoken by an overly excited large child who was sitting on his chest. Deep blue eyes stared down at him and wild waves brushed his cheek as the weight lowered its head until their foreheads touched. Even his brilliant smile was irked him. 

    “Lance,” His partner grinned at him, feigning innocence. “Get the hell off of me.” A rough shove to the side caused Lance to lose his balance and sent him toppling into the wall. He pressed a hand to the back of his neck, rapid complaints fired from his mouth. 

    “What was that for, you sourpuss? Honestly, you’d think you would appreciate a wakeup call from someone as beautiful as me just a little bit more than that.” 

    Keith pushed dark hair out of his eye, still mussed from sleep. “What time is it?” Lance said nothing. Instead he lifted his cellphone into Keith’s field of view. The LCD screen read  **7:08PM** , far past the  **5:00PM** dinner call. His heart quickened as he became aware that he was late. Or rather than late, he had completely missed it. “ _ Shit _ . Why didn’t you wake me?”

    “Calm down, sleeping beauty. I slept through it too.” Before Keith could protest that dinner was an important meal and missing it was something that he could not remain calm over, Lance pushed a finger to his lips. “We’re college students, my guy. Do you really think I can afford dinner twenty-four-seven anyways? I know how to whip up some damn good cup o’ noodles. Come on.”

    Was it healthy? Probably not. But Lance wasn’t wrong; noodles in a cup were incredible. Keith didn’t really pay attention to all of the things he added to it along the way, not with the way he was practically salivating at the thought of something that wasn’t Coran’s hospital-grade meals. Once the steaming styrofoam cup landed in front of him he forgot all manners. Like a lioness on the prowl, he dove into the meal like it was the first thing he had seen in weeks. He ignored Lance’s cackling voice as noodle after delicious noodle was devoured. It was steaming hot but somehow he found a way to ignore the way the liquid scorched a trail along his throat. 

    Tonight was once more a movie marathon and Keith wondered how many films he had truly missed over the years. It seemed like every one they scrolled past was redeemed as ‘notable’ by Lance. Even more were ones he insisted that they would eventually watch because those were his favourites. Keith didn’t even bother questioning how he had so many number ones. It wasn’t until they were halfway through  _ Clueless  _ that Keith braved asking Lance a question that he longed to hear the answer to. 

    “Lance, what happened to Marcie?”

    “Uh, there isn’t a Marcie in this movie. I don’t think at least. I mean there’s Cher...Dionne...Is Marcie the other blonde?”

    “No, I mean your aunt. Great-aunt? Lance’s sister.” 

    “Oh,” Keith found himself holding his breath. “I don’t know, I mean I think she still lives in Louisiana? She might have moved out to New Mexico though. I think I’m friends with her on Facebook, want me to check?”

    “You have a book with friend’s faces in it?” Lance stared at him as though he had grown three heads. His mouth floundered open and closed with a snap. 

    “No?” The word was drawn out, the end rose in the form of a question that made Keith doubt his answer. “It’s a website, dude. It knocked Myspace out of the internet stratosphere.”

    “Myspace?” Lance only sighed before clicking out of Netflix. His fingers flew across the keyboard at a speed that sent Keith’s brain spiralling. Kids these days had talent in the simplest places. Suddenly, the screen lit up with the face of an older woman. Her face was lined with wrinkles and her hair had grown incredibly long and white but her features were in tune with Lance’s in an uncanny way. Her radiant blue eyes were full of joy and her smile was wide and toothy. Or it would have been toothy if she had any left. Marcie was still alive and well. And evidently still lived in Louisiana.

    Keith felt his own face light up in a grin, relief swept over him in a crashing wave. “Can you give her a message for me? Tell her I’d love to speak to her again.” Lance scanned his face, obviously searching for some form of answer. When he came up empty handed he groaned. 

    “Man, she’ll talk my ear off. Probably ask about school and whether or not I’m expecting a baby anytime soon. She won’t even bother with simple things like, ‘Hey Lance, did you find a nice girl yet? What about boy? Adoption is an option.’” When Keith didn’t respond, he sighed heavily. “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it. But you owe me.” 

    “I could always make a FaceSpace account.”

    “It’s Facebook, and no, you probably couldn’t. I mean, you could. But I really don’t trust you on there. Plus, you’d have all of maybe three friends including Blue’s personal page.” 

    “Did you actually make your cat, who mind you doesn’t even have opposable thumbs, an account? But you won’t let me, your human friend, make one? How many friends does she even have? She’s a cat! What does she do, reconnect with the other cats she met in her other eight past lives?”

    “She has over eleven-thousand followers! Blue is a natural model and she knows it. That’s something your ugly mug could never manage.”

    Keith felt his face growing closer to Lance’s but did nothing to stop himself. Instead, he allowed the gravitational pull to push their lips together. They hadn’t kissed since the day at the lake and it was only because Keith had refused to. Every time Lance tried to initiate a kiss, he had pulled away and busied himself with something else. It was tender and sweet but this time, Lance pulled back. 

    “Listen, I get that anger is like your big kink but can you control yourself? My great-aunt is watching.” His tone was playful, but it was true. Marcie’s picture was still full screen on the laptop and Keith couldn’t help but push his face into Lance’s chest. The room filled with light giggles once again and the two curled into one another to resume their movie marathon. Far above them, beyond the building and the trees, twinkled the stars that Keith and his Lance has sat beneath and dreamed of their future. And now Keith sat in the room he shared with Lance’s grandson enveloped in his warm embrace. His other Lance. They both were his, maybe not at the same time or even with the same emotions behind them, but he loved them in their own ways. And maybe now he was beginning to realize it. This Lance wasn’t his Lance, but at the same time, he was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked that one. I might start doing every other week updates but who know anymore. I won't drop this fic though, so don't worry about that. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Tumblr: KyojinOuji.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: Twitter.com/Kyojinouji


	10. Slacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month. *YIKES* In short, there are only a few chapters left. I was aiming for three but I think it might be four if we include the epilogue.

**“** _Got a piece of my mind, to tell you who's mine,_

_Nobody hurts like me for you._

_Soft slacks at night, I'm wearing 'em tight,_

_Nobody hurts like I do._

_Your fakers are fine, but your water ain't wine,_

_so stop feeding me, 'a little more time'._

_Your shit's a mess, I'm not yours to undress,_

_I'm leaving this love for the last time._

_I'm not yours, I'm mine_. **”**

**St. South -** _Slacks_

  
  


    Nothing had changed. They had settled into their routine in the same way that dust settled thickly over discarded file folders. Hours spent pouring over time missed turned into hours of reports about the history of fashion, psychology, and art. Sketchbooks piled high, teetering from side to side as the boys rushed around the room in a panicked haze.

    “Are you sure you have everything?”

    Keith’s impatience got the best of him as a sigh escaped between his parted lips. “Yes, Lance, for the third time I am _certain_ I have everything.” His foot beat the ground repetitively, sliding his cool façade from his shoulders like a silken scarf. He was going to meet the McClain family. The group of people he was once part of but no longer knew. He had reached Marcie with the help of Lance and his technological ties. Her immediate suggestion was that they come visit the following weekend, however, rides were hard to find and it was impossible to leave with so much work piling up. After some convincing, they decided that Thanksgiving would be the best time to travel to Louisiana. They would only stay for three nights and four days; test the waters before Christmas rolled around and they stayed for an entire month.

    No one questioned Keith’s presence. The family welcomed him once more with open arms despite his seventy-five-year disappearance. He was family, maybe not through blood, or even vivid memories, but their home was his in every meaning of the word. Lance hadn’t mentioned his grandfather but Keith knew deep inside that he would have to face his greatest fear sooner or later. He was prepared. He had been given a second chance at life and this new beginning was something only he could manage. His body ached to rest; to avoid the trip altogether. How simple would it be to tell Lance that he had changed his mind; that he wasn't ready to face his demons yet? But he knew something like that would be senseless; it would be nothing more than a fruitless expedition to a finish line of regret.

    Lance was excited to go home and reunite with his family. How could Keith step in and ruin the experience for him? Instead, he settled his swaying opinions with an iron-clad resolution of pleasing the taller boy. The same one who twirled around the room in such a flurry that it made Keith’s head spin. His aquamarine aura dominated the small space; tossing itself against the windows in a stunning crystalline display. It wasn't until Lance slammed into the open door of their wardrobe did Keith feel the need to stop him.

    “Lance, breathe.” Tan hands wringing together in a dance of pure anxiety, he stared back into dark eyes. The air seemed to leave his chest instantly as the weight of the world crashed into the floor; peeling itself from his shoulders like a cape shed from a hero.

   “Yeah, sorry. It’s just a lot. Did you already pack Blue’s food? I wonder if we should feed her before we start driving.”

   “She ate when we woke up, remember? She’s plump enough already and I especially don't want her puking in the cat carrier. It’s an eight-hour drive to the hotel.”

    Groaning, he watched as Lance knelt beside the Persian’s carrier. Small pieces of kitty kibble tipped over the bars like small pebbles, smacking the fleece blanket with a dull _thud_. “Lance, what did I just say?”

    The other turned to face him with a blank expression. His voice danced playfully along the windowsill as he shot a mischievous look in Keith’s direction. “Well, I don’t know.” Keith fastened their hands together and helped to pull Lance from his crouch. Lance twirled the two of them around the room in a fit of laughter before coming to a paralyzed stop, face turning grave. “Sometimes I can see your mouth moving, but honey, I don't hear a word you're saying.” He pressed a light kiss to Keith’s lips before pirouetting across the small space like a graceful rocket; dodging his partner’s lunges like second nature.

    “Lance, we don't have time for this. You told your dad that we would be there tomorrow night, we need to head out soon.” It would be a fifteen-hour ride to the McClain’s so they decided to split it between the two of them. Lance would drive for eight or nine hours while Keith would drive the remaining ones. Neither of them knew if he had the stamina to do so, however, Keith was stubborn. Despite his health concerns, Allura even agreed that it might be an excellent opportunity to see the modern world. She debriefed Lance on all of his routines and procedures and sent them out the door with an eccentric thrust. The idea of his health settling into Lance’s hands was a terrifying reality.

    Lance chose to still ignore his complaints, his gaze focused entirely on the Persian who had curled up in front of him. She was obviously content despite the plastic enclosure she had been placed in. Her purring form rose and fell with each gentle breath and Keith observed Lance’s body follow a similar pattern. It was as though the boy and the beast were two parts of one soul. It was almost painful to tear the moment to shreds.

    “Lance-”

     A dainty voice drifted into the room, quickly sweeping the rug from beneath the words that now lay dying on Keith’s tongue. “Weren’t you guys supposed to leave an hour ago?” Pidge stood in the doorway, her arms crossed in false indignation. Her small frame pushed against the doorcase as she grew to her full height, somewhere near 5’2. “Seriously, you don’t want to leave Mama McClain hanging. And don’t let Lance fool you, he’s the biggest mama’s boy I’ve ever met.”

    “Hey!”

    “Honestly, Lance. Hunk has pictures of you clinging to her hip on the first day of school.”

    “Seriously? That was kindergarten. What kid didn’t hold on to their parent for dear life?”

    “I meant the first day of this year, Dreamboat.” Keith couldn’t stop himself from snorting into his hand, immediately averting his gaze from Lance’s prying blue stare. “Really, though, Hunk left hours ago. It’s gonna be pretty boring without you guys up here for the next few weeks. Also,” Her hand traveled into the pocket of her oversized sweatpants to pull out a small piece of folded paper. “Allura said you might want this. It’s a checklist of necessities, medicine routines, and answers to most of the stupid questions Lance might ask while you guys are gone.”

    “Even when she’s not my constant health companion she still finds a way to look out for me.”

    “Yeah well, be thankful she’s even letting you go without her. If it wasn’t for the massive amount of kids at Lance’s house already, I’m sure she would have insisted on coming with you two.”

    Massive amount of kids? Lance had only mentioned his two brothers. Hunk’s side of the family wasn’t even attending until the next trip they had planned. Sensing his confusion, Lance piped in his input. “Not counting us there will only be about six other people. Don’t sweat it.” Of course, he’d sweat it. These were people he knew only in theory. People who were part of his adoptive family that were no more than distant creations woven together in the time he was out of commission. Pidge pressed a hand gently to the space between his shoulder blades, running small circles in comforting waves.

    “You’ll be fine. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

    “Lion is more like it, have you seen his wild mane lately?” He wasn’t wrong. Keith’s hair had grown out quite a bit since the last time Allura had cut it. The way it framed his face was comforting, he hadn’t the heart to trim it. Instead, it was tied into a small ponytail at the base of his neck. His hand found its way into his bangs, mussing them a bit so they fell away from his eyes.

    “I think he looks fine.”

    “Well, obviously. I never said he didn’t.”

    “And he’s standing right here. We need to leave if you want to get there on time.” His breath came out in a quick puff, a frown pursed his lips tight. “Not like I’ve been telling you for the last hour or anything.” He bent to pick up Blue’s cage, using her as bait to lure Lance out of the room. He followed obediently, clucking around the cat carrier like a worried mother hen.

    “Careful, Keith. She’s fragile.”

    The said their goodbye’s to their small green friend before proceeding in the opposite direction.

 

**-**

 

They had reached the highway in silence. However, the ten minute ride had been too much for Lance, who bounced in his seat to the rhythm of some slow ballad. It was almost hard to concentrate on the road with the way Lance hummed along, his voice tender. While it wasn’t rare for Lance to wear his emotions on his sleeve it was still bizarre to see him so serene. He was raw, completely open for anyone to read. And the anyone, in this case, was Keith.

    “Everything okay?” Lance’s eyes shot wide; rudely shaken from his trance. His reply was nothing more than a gruff, “Yeah,” before he began to fidget once more. He didn’t want to push the issue; not really. They were close of course, closer than most friends usually were. But that didn’t give him the right to tear Lance apart with a line of questioning that could give police interrogations a run for their money. However, it was going to be a long drive if he didn’t say _something_ and quick.

    “You know I’m always going to be here for you, right?” His voice was gentle, softly reverberating through the vehicle with a tenderness that could soothe a crying child. It was slow, the way Lance turned his body to face Keith. The way his sapphire eyes latched onto plum. The way his lips formed a perfect circle as they said-

    “Dude, keep your eyes on the fucking road. I didn’t ask you to come with me so you could get us killed.” Keith’s gaze shot back to the highway; heat framed his nose in a perfect flush. “I’m fine. Honestly, everything is good. I’m just a little worried to see everyone again. I barely call anymore, they’re probably not thrilled.”

    “You should keep in contact with them more than you do. I mean it’s a blessing you still have them.” His words weren’t meant to be harsh, but Lance recoiled from them as though they were acidic. _Great job, Red. You were supposed to cheer him up, not shoot him where it hurts._ Suddenly, Keith found himself backpedaling. “Lance, I didn’t mean-”

    Lance cut him off, “You did. You may not think that you did, but you wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.” His body cut off all conversation; turned once again so he could stare out the window. This time with more force than when the ride began.

    “Lance, honestly.”

    “Keith, I just need a little time to myself, alright?” The conversation was over and he knew it. But for some reason, his brain pushed him to speak. He would have the last word.

    “That’s going to be a little hard, don’t you think? We’re in a moving vehicle.”

     “Then stop the car and I’ll get out.”

     “We’re on the _highway._ ” His tone was full of pure incandescence to which Lance responded with absolute silence. This was going to be a long, painful ride.

 

**-**

 

    Excluding the few rest stops and food breaks, the conversation never picked back up. Instead, they rode tensely to the halfway point hotel where Keith noticed an immediate change in the other’s behavior.

    “Flag down a bellhop and load up our stuff. I’ll deal with checking us in.” The words themselves were tense and in no way warranted the delicate kiss that feathered its way onto Keith’s cheek. As Lance strode inside as though nothing had happened, he grew suspicious. He watched as the woman at the front desk spoke with a superior attitude before melting in front of the smooth talking Cuban boy with the oceanic eyes. IDs were passed between the two and just as quickly Lance was on his way back through the lobby.

    “I thought you were going to get a bellhop?”

    “Did you just _flirt_ with the receptionist?”

    “She is the desk clerk and so what if I did?” He stood with a single hip cocked out of proportion, one hand balanced delicates on top. Everything about his post said war.

    “I was standing right over here! I could see you.”

    “I’m not _denying_ that I did, Keith. I’m asking, so what?”

    “Do I really mean that little to you? That you can just play with me and be done?”

    “You’re the one who is still stuck on my granddaddy! It’s been seventy-five years, Keith. He fell in love with someone else, boo-hoo. I’m the product of that.”

    “Lance, are you even hearing yourself?” He sighed, heart pounding against his chest and rage boiling over in his veins. The chill bit into his bones as every passing breeze made the night air grow more impenetrable. “What brought this on? Is this honestly what you thought about the entire drive down here?” Lance had turned his body away; silently building a wall between them. But Keith knew that he couldn’t hold his tongue for long. Not with the way flames licked at his heels, urging him to press the matter. “Lance, we can stand here all night. Answer me this fucking instant.” He didn’t know if it was his tone or purely the fact that the quiet had grown too violent but Lance spun on him. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of fury and something beyond the surface; desperation.

    “Keith, I feel something for you. It’s an emotion that words can’t even begin to explain; something that I can’t even fathom. I’ve dated people, hell, I’ve hooked up with people and never felt something so extreme. It’s a magnetic pull I can’t get away from and it keeps dragging me by my heels straight back to your feet. But you don’t feel it. You’ve had your first love and that’s over and done with. But it’s not really. Not when my grandfather is still alive. Not while I know you still have some kind of deep, warped hope that maybe, just maybe, he can love you again. That everything will work out. That you aren’t a twenty-one-year-old college student and he isn’t deteriorating beneath your fingers.” His voice suddenly broke; a cry tore free from deep within and suddenly he was kneeling on the cold asphalt of the parking lot. Both arms bent to cover his face; a twisted masquerade mask meant to block out anything that made him seem even slightly human. “And it’s not your fault. I led myself into this knowing the story. Knowing full well the way you felt and the bond you shared. Knowing that you could never cut those emotions off just because you woke up in a new world. But I went along with it and told myself that you could love me. Even if what you loved wasn’t really me and I was just a replacement with his face. I never thought it would hurt.”

    Keith struggled to breathe. His airways seemed to constrict all at once and suddenly he was gasping for air. He found himself on the ground as well, arms wrapped tightly around Lance’s shaking frame. He felt bony and frail; like a single movement could shatter him easily. Minutes passed, seconds ticking by like hours. Years. Lance’s sobs quieted into soft murmurs into Keith’s shoulder; his breathing grew steady. Keith almost believed that he had fallen asleep until his voice perked up from its place against his chest.

    “It’s cold.”

    “I know, buddy.” Lance made to pull away but found himself stationary. Keith gently pulled the mask of limbs away from his face, revealing a grossly sodden expression. Snot dripped from Lance’s nose and his blue eyes contrasted startlingly against his red, swollen eyes. But Keith could still could every freckle, every constellation, past the red flush of his cheeks. He was beautiful. In an odd, grimy sort of way. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

    A lone sniffle drifted through the parking lot in response. Keith pressed their foreheads together; savoring the heat that passed between them. “You are a completely different person, Lance. You are you. In the beginning, it was unsettling to be around you, I won’t sugarcoat it. But now? I know you are everything separate from him. Hell, I’ve known it since before I moved in with you. Since the day we went to the lake. You’ve always been yourself and I think you’re the one who needs to see that now. More than I ever needed to.” His breath made small puffs, but every word he spoke was laced with pure, liquid honesty. The kind that doesn’t come prepackaged and labeled as ‘imitation extract.’

    Lance huffed suddenly and pushed against Keith’s chest. “You’re such a sap, it’s gross.” He brought a hand up to scrub his eyes.

    “You’re covered in snot and sitting in the middle of a Comfort Inn parking lot.”

    “At least I’m stylish, mullet.”

    The two of them and Blue made their way to the hotel room they had booked. However, somewhere along the way Lance had intertwined their free hands. While the silence was no longer deafening, it still held unanswered questions. But none were as important as why Lance booked a room with only one bed when he knew damn well that he was the biggest blanket hog of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this super late update! I'm finally back into the schedule of school and life in general so the next update should be out next week. 
> 
> Tumblr: KyojinOuji.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: KyojinOuji


	11. Somebody Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter because I spent an entire month planning and writing. No edits have been made yet so if you see any mistakes, let me know!

**_“_ ** _ So I heard you found somebody else _ _   
_ _ And at first I thought it was a lie _ _   
_ _ I took all my things that make sounds _ _   
_ _ The rest I can do without. _ _   
_ _ I don't want your body _ _   
_ _ But I hate to think about you with somebody else. _ _   
_ _ Our love has gone cold _ _   
_ _ You're intertwining your soul with somebody else. _ **_”_ **

**The 1975** _ \- Somebody Else _

 

    It wasn’t that Lance’s music choice was terrible. No, it was entirely the fault of how many times he decided to play each song. Even though Keith had seventy-five-years of pop culture to catch up on, it felt like listening to the Jonas Brothers Greatest Hits back to back for three hours was excruciating. It wasn’t until they parked at a rest stop that the pain ended as the car abruptly shut off the stereo system. It felt as though the world had gone silent as “Burnin’ Up” found its sudden death among a graveyard of now vacant airwaves.  _ Thank god.  _

    “You know,” Lance turned to face him, cheek resting against the steering wheel. “I have Hannah Montana and High School Musical, too.” Horror cast itself over Keith’s features before he could stop it and Lance immediately lost his cool. Blue eyes wide and bright, his face lit up with a blinding smile. His laugh wasn’t particularly beautiful.  _ Not at all, actually _ . It wasn’t like waves crashing against the sandy shores of a beach. Or small tinkling bells. Or a wind chime strung out before a summer storm. No, his laugh was none of those things. It was the rush of excitement before the plummet from the tallest drop on a rollercoaster; unexpected and sharp. But it was still fascinating and oh so very Lance.

    Blue yowled from her crate behind them and easily drew a startled yelp from both of the boys. Lance quickly sprung from the driver’s seat and tutted around the car to the back door. Insisting all the while that, “She just needs to go potty, too,” before hooking a small harness around her chest. 

    “Can you walk her around in the grass? I really have to pee and then we can switch off.” Seeing Keith’s look of apprehension, he threw both hands on his hips. “She needs to stretch her legs anyways and it’s not like you have anything better to do.”

    Keith couldn’t help but grin. Lance had such an attachment to the small animal that he would probably throw himself into an ice cold lake if it meant he could protect her. Her paws gently sifted through the grassy terrain; prodding into the soft earth like a man on a mission. She was absolutely precious and there was no denying that. Her personality was so similar to that of a human, and with that, a very specific one. A mischievous spitfire with a side of molten sugar sweet topping. Despite the similarities between Blue and Lance, there were also plenty to be shared between Keith himself and the Persian beauty. 

    It was difficult to get to know them. They had wrapped a hard taffy exoskeleton around their crystal hearts; protecting them from damage. But inside they held so much love. A desire to keep the one they loved the most safe from harm. Naps were also something they had grown accustomed to doing together. On more than one occasion, Lance came home to his roommates curled up on the bed; leaching sun beams of their warmth. Despite Keith’s protests against the constant appearance of fur on every pair of black skinny jeans he owned, there was a sense of love towards the ferocious beast. 

    By the time Lance returned, Blue had grown preoccupied with a small anthill. Keith watched as she pounced occasionally on the unsuspecting workers and laughed each time her attacks went amiss. Once or twice one of the insects would cling to her whiskers and dangle off in a way that reminded him completely of someone repelling from the side of a cliff. Lance was less than amused at the scene; immediately lifting the furball from the grass and dusting off her paws of the loose anthill apparatus. 

    “Yucky, Blue. That’s yucky.” His face was a veil of pure disgust; nose scrunched up in a pig-like fashion. If you looked close enough, you could even see a bit of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Not that he was staring that closely. Especially not at his lips. 

    “She’s a natural predator, Lance. Let her have some fun.”

    “Natural predator my ass. Have you met this cat? She sleeps eighteen hours a day and eats the other six.” Blue eyes crinkled as he formed the grin that Keith oh so venomously hated. “Sounds like you.” Keith sighed in false aggravation and immediately pulled a palm to his mouth as to hide his own shit-eating grin. 

 

-

 

    Keith didn’t exactly know what to expect from the McClain’s home. Not even as they bore down the winding driveway leading up to it. He knew what he did not expect, however, and it was the large French Colonial style building that expanded the closer they got. The house was obviously two tiers with what may have been a third floor gently extending past the roof. The house had been painted a delicate daffodil yellow with the large pillars along both the upper and lower porch a shade of white. Even the shutters were painted to be pristine white. From the inside of each window, lace curtains hung and each room sat alit. The long gravel driveway rounded the fountain directly in front of the house and wove around into the backyard. Even as Lance followed said pathway, Keith sat in numb shock. 

    “You mean you  _ live  _ here?” Lance stared back at him with a dull expression and his lips pulled into a thin, tight line. 

    “No, I live with you at the Garrison. Unless you forgot that small fact.” Despite Keith’s obvious displeasure, he pressed on. “Did you hit your head? You know I have Allura’s number if you think we need to call her.”

    “Lance, for once in your life just stop talking and focus on where you’re driving.” The other simply had a grin that could rival Oogie Boogie’s trick-or-treaters’. He did as he was asked but as soon as the car landed in park he spun to face Keith. 

   “Welcome to Casa de la Lance.”

    “You never said you were rich.” 

    “I told you Popo bought the lake.”

    Keith stared back at him; his plum colored eyes wide. “People buy lakes all the time. It wasn't well maintained in the first place, so it’s not like it could have cost all that much.”

    “As true as that may be, he was still part of NASA. I know you don't know much about it, but astronauts make a good amount of money.” He paused briefly, as though he was considering his next statement thoroughly. “That came out harshly, sorry. You probably didn't even know much about the moon landing let alone the salaries of people who worked with it “

    “It’s fine. It wasn't harsh and especially not untrue. What did Nyma do?”

    Lance’s face burst into color, the blue mist around him danced excitedly. “More like what  _ didn’t  _ she do.” His grandmother was obviously a bright spot in his life. Despite her passing, he didn't even pause before rambling on about all the occupations Nyma had taken on during her lifetime. The woman truly did do everything. She worked as a waitress after her arrival in America, participated in every baking competition under the sun, and even became a freelance illustrator for local newspapers and magazines. However, what caught Keith’s eye wasn't her lengthy resume. Instead, it was the answer he had been dying to ask but never had the courage to do so. “...and then she met my granddad! And the rest is history. The rest being me.” He snorted at his own statement, a grin painting his lips.

    “Wait, repeat that last part one more time.”

    “Which last part? There were a lot of last parts in there depending on when you stopped listening.”

    “The part about how they met.” 

    “Keith-”

    “Lance, please. I deserve to know especially since you already said it once.” A heavy sigh pushed through the air and Lance brought his arms across his chest defensively.

    “Yeah, fine, whatever. Listen this time, won't you?” Red found himself nodding profusely; his desperation for answers taking hold of his emotions in one swift movement. “My grandad used to go to this old fabric shop, like twenty-four-seven. He never really bought anything, just kind of wandered up and down the aisles. Spent hours looking through the pattern books; always asking questions about the types of fabric. Nyma was a bit down on her luck during that time but every time he came in was like a breath of fresh air. He was bizarre but that only made her more interested, ya’ know? Anyways, eventually she got the nerve to talk to him. First, light conversation. Then one day she decided to ask him out for coffee. And she found out about everything. Why he was there, where he was going, and who he was.” He paused, gaze drifting along the vehicle’s dashboard. He seemed afraid to press further, as though the story itself was already too deep. Too personal. “Who he was looking for. He told her about his best friend, his partner, that had fallen ill. That he couldn’t see him anymore because something deep inside of him had grown guilty. He was able to live his life freely but his friend was confined to a single place in time. His friend loved fabric. Everything about textiles was beautiful to him; delicate woven structures or wide yarn pieces. He lived for the stuff.” Keith felt his mind try to tread water; hardly staying afloat. “You know where I’m going with this. It’s all in the past now, Keith. I forget sometimes, I guess. I forget that you weren’t mine first. Hell that you’re not even from this time period.” Blue eyes drifted to violet. “But you know, I wouldn’t have it any other way. And I hope it’s the same for you.”

    Keith found himself no longer breathing. _ When did that happen? How did that happen?  _ No, he knew when it happened. It was the second Lance put his own emotions into words. At that moment, he knew his breathing fell to a halt. And all at once he released the long kept breath in an airy, “Of course it’s the same for me, you insufferable lugnut.” And with that the two fell into a tender embrace, breathing in the scent of lemongrass mingling with dark chocolate. With ocean breeze and cinnamon. An it stayed that way until a large frame appeared in the driver’s side window and threw open the door. The beast who stood in its place was incredibly broad shouldered. However, that wasn’t the first thing Keith noticed. Instead, it was the warmth that seemed to radiate from him. It was like entering a house where warm cookies were just recently pulled from the oven. The man in question looked like what you would expect if you crossed a towering bear with lanky Lance. His chin was topped with a bit of scruff in a way that made Keith wonder what his partner would look like if he gave his own facial hair a chance to grow out. His eyes were a deep, warm brown, but that was where his differences with Lance ended. A spattering a freckles crossed the bridge of his nose and disappeared beneath his long dark curls. And by the way Lance shot from his seat, it was obvious the two held close relations. 

    “Uncle Bas!” His arms wrapped around the man’s torso; although he could barely reach it. Keith had assumed the McClains were tall. They always had been back in his day and given the appearances of Hunk and Lance, he figured as much still applied. But this was ridiculous. Lance hardly came past the man’s shoulder and he was afraid that once he got out of the car it would become obvious that he was not as well endowed in the height region. However, he did so anyways. Carefully, he unbuckled his seatbelt and slid out of the seat; cautious as to not startle the duo from their long awaited reunion. 

    “And you,” ‘Bas’ spun on him instantly, rounding the car before Keith could even rise to his full height. “Must be Keith.” He extended a large palm with a dazzling smile. The gesture pulled at obvious smile lines that crackled across his skin like lightning. Keith met his outstretched request with a handshake; unsure how to continue the conversation past the obvious. 

    “I am the Keith.” His voice fell through as incredibly dull until he watched Lance’s jaw fall slack. It took mere moments to process his mistake and once the fog had cleared he found himself stuttering in an effort to consolidate himself; a difficult task past the cackling of both McClain men. “I mean- I am- I guess- I didn’t mean to say that.” Embarrassment flooded his features; red painting its way to the tips of his ears. Lance’s uncle placed a hand on his shoulder

    ‘It’s fine, my boy. Happens to the best of us, if I do say so myself.” He had the same lopsided grin as Lance and briefly Keith wondered if it was some kind of gene in their family. “I’m Sebastian McClain, Lance’s uncle and Lance’s son if you catch my drift. It’s a pleasure to meet the man my old man considered to be the moon and all the stars. Never thought I would be this old when I got to meet you though; hoped I’d be at least a little better looking.”  _ Lance’s son. _ This was one of Lance’s children. The words hit him like bullets straight to his heart even if each blow was dull. It created an throbbing ache somewhere in the back of his mind, vying desperately for attention. But here they stood, face to face. And it was obvious that Lance could sense his distress as he rounded the hood of the car in an instant. He clasped their hands as a way of reminding Keith that he was there. That they were there  _ together _ . 

    “Bas, do you think it’d be okay if you could run in and tell everyone that we’re here? I’m going to help Keith get his stuff out of the car.” Despite the weary expression that crossed his face, Bas nodded and started back towards the house. Before he was even out of sight, Lance had spun on Keith; eyes full of something unreadable. “Listen to me, this isn’t going to be the last time you hear that, alright? You have to promise me that you’ll stay strong. I know it hurts, I can’t even imagine how you feel, but I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. So, I have to know that you’ll do the same thing. I can’t have you checking out on me right now, alright?”

_     Breathe.  _ It felt like the world was tugging at his lungs, insisting that they work once more.  _ Breathe _ . Lance stared back at him; blue eyes full of concern.  _ Breathe, Keith.  _ “Yeah. Okay, yeah.” While he wasn’t completely content, Lance took it with a grain of salt. The two got to work unloading the car; Keith fearing every second ticking towards the moment he would once again have to reunite with the real deal. 

 

-

 

    The inside of the house was just as elaborate as the outside. Despite the ornate designs running along the borders of every wall, it did not feel uninviting. They entered through a breezeway that had connected the back yard to the interior of the home but from what Keith saw, Lance’s family had made the otherwise stuffy home into something much more....lived in. Children’s drawings from Scotch tape along the hallway walls. Throw pillows and blankets lay scattered in the day room alongside Nerf bullets, as though someone had recently ended a game of War. Bookbags were discarded along the winding stairs and coats hung from the railings. And the shoes, god the shoes, they were everywhere. Pair after pair were scattered through the halls and door frames. A single shoe even sat upon the back of a floral print couch in the center of the living room. Lance grinned from ear to ear as though presenting his home was the greatest gift he had to offer. And in its own bizarre sort of way it was. It felt as though he was being shown a piece of Lance that he never would have been able to reach before. Without the help of the cryopod. Or the hospital. Or the Galra for that matter. Without the infiltration of Galra into his system, he would have remained a citizen of 1940’s America. Never would he have met this new Lance. Or learned of cellphones, toaster ovens, or even microwaves. Despite the havoc it chose to wreak, there would have been no way for him to join this brilliant new world. And while he would never thank the disease that took him away from the people and world that he loved, he would also never neglect to appreciate the one it brought him to. 

     “Lance, I-” Before he could finish the thought, a small creature darted around the corner; immediately sinking its claws into Lance’s leg. He stumbled slightly and caught his balance on the nearby wall. It was petite and hardly came up to his thigh. A mess of wild curls had settled upon its head; resembling a hybrid between a mop and bird’s nest. It wasn’t until Keith noticed the oversized Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt did he realize that the animal that was now latching to his friend was not an animal at all. It was a human child, and a wild one at that. Lance squeaked suddenly, whether out of surprise or excitement Keith didn’t know, and lifted the girl onto his shoulder. 

    “Did you bring Blue?” Her eyes were a warm brown and her face was absolutely splattered with dark freckles. She truly could not have been more than six or seven given the amount of teeth she lacked. Despite the gaps between her teeth, her smile was infectious. She stared at Lance with an expression of pure love and admiration. It was only then that she seemed to notice Keith’s interest in the two of them. “Who’re you?”

    Lance jumped to reply as though he didn’t trust Keith to explain it to her in a less than nonsensical fashion. “Keith, this is my sister Amelia. Mellie, this is Keith! My roommate. He’s a very dear friend of Popo. And me too, really.” The girl switched her gaze between the two boys. The introduction wasn’t incorrect in the slightest, however, she looked as though she did not believe it. 

    “Does that mean you’re old too? Popo is  _ really  _ old, and wrinkly, but you’re not.”

    “Amelia!”

    It wasn’t that Keith didn’t like kids. On the contrary, he always loved them. With the amount Lance had running around when they were growing up, it would have been impossible to spend time with the McClains if you didn’t like children. But here he stood, in front of this itty bitty human being who was staring at him with a skeptical expression, and he found himself aggravated. Not with her, of course, more or less with the way he was at a loss for words. After all, how do you greet the grandchild of your ex-boyfriend and the sister of your current partner? Certainly not by saying, “I’m thirteen days older than your grandfather.”

    That phrase sent both of the McClain children into hysterics. Amelia because she didn’t believe it and chose to laugh it off. And Lance because he was an asshole who had decided not to help his floundering friend. The laughter, of course, drew yet another young McClain to the rescue. This one was obviously a pre-teen boy with hair trimmed in a similar style to Lance’s. However, the large difference was his sweeping blonde bangs. Though the rest of his hair was a deep chestnut, his fringe had been loaded full of frosted highlights. Headphones hung lazily from his neck and he stared on at the trio as though they all had grown a second head. 

    “Mikey! Long time no see, bud. Nice hair.” Lance grinned, his fingers already nestled within the boy’s mess of a mane. ‘Mikey’ swatted at his hand as though his older brother was no more than a buzzing mosquito and grumbled some form of greeting before shuffling off down the hall. By the time the  _ swish swish  _ of his plaid pajama pants disappeared down the hall, Lance had already adopted the look of a hurt puppy. Amelia was no stranger to the expression and her two chubby palms slapped against his puffed cheeks. 

    “Chin up, buttercup!” Her brown eyes were wide and full of joy. That alone was enough to launch the eldest McClain into a blubbering mess. He quickly shoved the young girl into Keith’s arms and bolted down the hallway, opposite of the direction Mikey had disappeared into. The remaining figures shared a confused glance before Keith set the girl back onto the wooden flooring. Hand-in-hand, they cautiously followed behind Lance. 

    They found him easily; his body curled into the arms of a small woman. Her head hardly met Lance’s bicep and the height difference was so great he had to bend slightly at the knees to settle against her shoulder. One palm spend its time running in delicate circles along his back while the other rested gently on his head. This was obviously the most important woman in his life- his mother. 

    To say she looked motherly would be an understatement. The woman virtually radiated love and hugs and the kitchen in which they stood smelled delectable. Nutmeg and chocolate ran through the air in a tender embrace signalling the presence of some dessert in the oven. Her long hair had been pulled into a low bun against her neck but it was identical in color to Lance’s own. She spoke in a hushed voice; light and rushed like molten sugar. Her gaze instantly flickered to meet Keith’s and a large grin shot across her features like a bullet. 

    “Lance, my boy, why don’t you introduce me to our guest? I’ve been dying to meet him ever since you first mentioned him on the phone.”

    Lance transitioned to his regular self in a second flat. If he had learned anything about the McClains thus far, it would certainly be that the family itself was packed full of fast-paced human beings. They could change within an instant and you wouldn’t even expect their next course of action. At least, Keith never seemed to be able to predict Lance’s next move despite the months they had spent together. And the last thing he assumed to take place would be the phrase, “Mama, meet Keith Kogane. My boyfriend.” 

    Keith truly couldn’t process the information fast enough. Was it incorrect? Not necessarily. They had never really discussed labels. Did he not enjoy being referred to as such? No, he loved it. The word sounded as though it bounced from Lance’s tongue covered in fiery sparks; each more passionate than the next as the statement began to truly sink in. Was he disappointed that Lance had neglected to confront him about this revelation? Of course a little. It was quite a big statement. But overall, was he afraid? Unbelievably. His heart hammered against his ribs with every passing millisecond. He was desperate to speak, to say anything at all, but fear had his voice locked tightly away. Lance had told him that his family accepted his sexuality. Accepted the fact that he could love whoever he wanted if their soul was in the right place. But Keith was from a different world, one where people like them did not live freely. One where they were told to keep their real emotions caged deep within their hearts and that these feelings were nothing more than a phase. That by the time they were twenty they would desire a family. One with a partner of the opposite sex. That the love they thought applied to those of the same sex as them was nothing more than an illusion caused by a desperate yearning to experience love. 

    But here it was different. Here you had more freedom to live the way you desired. To be yourself. This world wasn’t perfect, not by far. Still so full of bigoted human beings and those who wished nothing more than to send you straight to their perception of eternal suffering for sinful behavior. But Lance simply told him to remain proud. Not to let those who stood against them ruin their sunny days. And now he stood before Lance’s mother, fearing sinful retribution for his involvement with her child. Instead, she smiled back at them and held out her arms. Keith fell into them willingly. A mother’s hug was something he hadn’t felt in nearly eighty years. Allura gave mom hugs, but this was on a completely separate level. This hug could probably rival Hunk’s crushing embrace.

    When she pulled away, he realized that her smile might just be permanently etched into her skin. Not that it was a bad thing at all. No, it was beautiful. The expression she wore was so obviously the reason Lance reminded him of the Cheshire cat. Honestly, he wasn't positive that he could spend five days with a family whose smiles could make flowers sprout from his scalp, but he damn well was going to try. Especially when the words, “Welcome home, Keith,” fell from her lips. Just then it was as though the final thread that had been holding his composure together simply snapped. The tears were falling before he had a chance to process their arrival. Big fat drops rolled down his cheeks; each one racing the one before it. Both of the McClains scrambled to comfort him. Lance tugged gently at his arm until Keith fell into him; his face smothered against his chest. Mrs. McClain on the other hand was gently patting his back while frantically whispering to Lance whether or not their guest was truly alright. 

 

**-**

 

    Their arrival had gotten off to a rocky start. They came to learn that only four of the eight household members were home. Which inherently meant Lance would have to introduce Keith not only as his roommate and guest but as his boyfriend. While the two began to unpack their bags, Keith had been called into the living room by Amelia. The young girl had been sitting on the floor of Lance’s room for nearly twenty minutes brushing Blue’s long coat when she suddenly had an epiphany. Keith, much like the Persian furball, had  _ quite  _ luxurious hair. It was soft, long, and very  _ very  _ dark. And Amy wanted nothing more than to experiment with it. Of course, the boys were startled when the wild child charged from the room in search of a hair brush and clips and even more so when she returned. And here the two of them sat, Amy on the couch and Keith below her on the floor. Tiny fingers dancing across his scalp while The Little Mermaid played quietly on the TV before them. Her actions once purposeful had turned absentminded, but Keith didn’t mind. He realized that the only person who regularly brushed his hair was Allura and with her back at the Garrison he was enjoying the pleasant sensation. However, it didn’t occur to him that she was not just brushing his hair. Instead, she was decorating him as though he was a pine tree just before the holidays. 

    He only noticed the dozens of additions weaving through the strands when Lance came to check on them. The boy stared on in what seemed to quickly change from horror to amusement. Suddenly, he tore off down the hall to retrieve his cellphone. Keith scrambled for a mirror, but it was too late. Just as he held the small pink princess hand mirror, Lance snapped a picture and sent it off to the others. His reflection was indeed him. A glitter covered version of himself atleast. He really hadn’t noticed Amelia placing any of the sparkly clips and barrettes throughout his hair. Nor did he feel the dozens of pigtails that had been tied through it. And especially not the silver glitter that the child had dusted on top of him. No, instead, he had been reveling in just how good it felt to have his hair ‘styled’. Keith lunged over the back of the couch and knocked Lance to the floor. A tangle of bodies, the two rolled this way and that until suddenly the door leading to the garage opened. In plain view stood two men, one of which was obviously Lance’s father. The other, Keith assumed, was Jordan. He was tall and covered in freckles, similarly to both Lance, their father, and their uncle. But that was instantly where the resemblances ended. Where most of Lance’s family had caramel skin tones and chestnut hair, Jordie was as pale as a ghost. His hair was on the longish side and a medium brown. Even his eyes were a light hazel. However, when you looked close enough you could see he was the perfect mashup of his parents. 

    It was Jordan who spoke up first upon seeing his brother beneath a smaller man covered in glitter and butterfly hair clips. “You know, it was a lot less gay without you around. Welcome back, loser.” Lance wiggled out from beneath him and immediately flew to Jordan’s side; arms spread wide for a tight embrace. The two took turns lifting each other off of the ground while Keith and their father simply shared a knowing look and sigh. How he managed to live with these antics for eighteen years prior to Lance’s departure to college was completely unbelievable. While the siblings discussed events from the previous few months, Keith felt compelled to say something to the oldest McClain. However, it was him who spoke first.

    “It’s nice to see you’re getting along well with Amy.” The youngest McClain still sat perched on the couch; entirely engrossed in the movie about singing sea life. Keith gazed in her direction fondly.

    “Of course. She reminds me quite a bit of Marcie when she was little.” It felt bizarre to speak not only to Marcie’s nephew, but to the son of his ex. Yet, the air around the man was not at all intimidating. No one in this family had an off putting aura and the house itself was calm and collected. His mustache twitched slightly as the corners of his lips pulled into a smile. Once again, Keith noticed that Lance must have been raised to never stop grinning by these very people. Optimists were something rare but this family was a breeding ground for them. Lance’s father, Alfonso if Keith remembered correctly from his earlier interactions with Lance’s mother, spoke once more, his light southern drawl tangling with his words in a graceful dance, “My aunt always speaks fondly of you, you know. She wasn’t all that old when you went away. But she thinks you’re the reason both of our Lance’s are who they are. Even though you haven’t known my boy all that long, I think you’ve changed him. For the better, of course. So, thank you, Keith. I appreciate it and I especially appreciate you.” The man was genuine. 

    And for the second time that night, Keith found a similar phrase reaching his eardrums. “Welcome home, Keith.” The final voice, despite the way it now held a tinge of southern twang, was oh so familiar. And every bit as painful to hear as it was the day the healing pod closed for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it! As always, leave me your comments and I'll be sure to reply! 
> 
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